Archive for category Film

2023 on Screen – the second half

I was struck as I compiled this summary of my watching (July-December) by the number of films directed by women, and/or focused on and carried by a central performance by a woman. The Bechdel test isn’t terribly relevant in these cases, and I think that’s a good sign. Women talking to one another about a man doesn’t have to imply a romantic context. To take two very different examples, in Clemency, Alfre Woodard’s character talks primarily to men, about men, but these men are not only her husband but her colleagues and the prisoners on Death Row for whom she is responsible. In Women Talking, the women are talking to each other about men, but about the men who have controlled their lives, kept them uneducated, and raped them, and what they’re really talking about is survival, escape, freedom.

There are some breathtaking performances in the films I’ve seen this year. Alfre Woodard has already been mentioned, but then there’s Danielle Deadwyler in Till, and Lily Gladstone in Killers of the Flower Moon. On TV, seeing women in lead roles is more normalised. Stand-out performances in this year’s TV watching include Regina King in Seven Seconds, Brie Larson in Lessons in Chemistry, Bella Ramsey in Time, and Ruth Wilson in The Woman in the Wall.

I haven’t listed absolutely everything I watched – if it’s the nth season of an ongoing series I haven’t included it unless there was something major and new, and if I really had to rack my brains to think of anything worth saying about it, I have said nothing. I’ve tried to avoid spoilers, but no guarantees.

Top films? Killers of the Flower Moon, The Creator, Paris Memories. And TV – The Lazarus Project, Lessons in Chemistry, Dopesick.

FILM

Barbie (dir. Greta Gerwig)

If anyone had told me a couple of years back that this would be one of my favourite films of the year, I’d have thought they’d lost the plot completely. But of course, this was Greta Gerwig’s Barbie and it was a delight, so packed with visual gags and intertextual references that I really want to watch it all over again, to pick up the details I missed. I laughed out loud, a lot. Several (mainly male) critics have piped up solemnly to tell us not to be so silly as to think it is the most profound meditation, the last word on gender and stereotyping. I’m not sure that those critics really get the relationship that so many women and girls have with Barbie and her ilk – love, hate or a complex mixture of the two, responding to the way she is both aspirational and impossible: she can be dressed as any profession, as a president or a nurse, but she has a body that is physically impossible and that undermines those aspirations.

I never owned a Barbie, but I did have a Sindy (her British cousin), and a Tressy (distinguished by the key in her back which made her hair grow). I kind of liked but never loved them, and was quickly bored with dressing them up, but rather enjoyed getting them to parachute out of my brothers’ bedroom window along with a couple of Action Men (they were all in the French Resistance, as I recall). Which does reinforce the idea that the way a girl will play with a Barbie is not limited or dictated by the marketing. My daughter enjoyed her Barbie dolls in a much more conventional way. But both of us loved the film. I can’t, obviously, speak for all women, but like us, most women I know just revelled in its wit, its playfulness, and its mild subversiveness, laughed a lot and had a really good time (sorry guys).

Belfast

This is a love letter of a film. And its warmth and humour, its mixture of the prosaic everyday and explosive violence make it both charming and genuinely frightening and tense. It’s not without its sentimental moments, but (as with Spielberg’s The Fabelmans) I felt inclined to forgive the elements of self-indulgence, when the film is as beautiful and moving as this.  

Best of Enemies

Not to be confused with Best of Enemies, the NT on Screen production based on Gore Vidal and William Buckley’s TV debates during the primaries in 1968, this one is based on the meetings set up in North Carolina to try to resolve issues about the education of black children, in which KKK leader C P Ellis (Sam Rockwell) faced off against local activist Ann Atwater (Taraji P Henson). I would have liked to know a lot more about Bill Riddick who initiated this format of collective problem solving. And I did wonder about the degree to which Ellis was humanised – not that I’m doubting his change of heart, for which there is undeniable evidence, but the film perhaps sentimentalised it a little bit, made it seem easier than it must have been, and glossed over his history somewhat. Atwater is more one-dimensional than Ellis, despite an excellent performance from Henson, because she’s given less chance to show dimensions other than righteous anger.

Brooklyn

Lovely, funny and moving. Saoirse Ronan is at her most luminous here, and from the start she has our hearts, so that some of us (me) were talking to her, telling her not to be daft, imploring her not to make the wrong choice.

Captain Phillips

Even though we know the outcome, this is super tense. And Hanks does his stoic, ordinary man in an extraordinary situation exceptionally well, with Barkhad Abdi as a compellingly charismatic opponent. Hanks lets us see behind the stoicism in the final stages of the film when his terror and trauma are powerfully portrayed.

Clemency (dir. Chinonye Chukwu)

This is bleak. A prison governor (Alfre Woodard) has to oversee executions of prisoners on death row, and it takes a toll on her mental health and her marriage. The film explores the interaction with one prisoner, who’s always declared his innocence, as his appeals run out of time. Woodard is just extraordinary – there’s a stillness to her which has nothing to do with calm, everything to do with someone holding on desperately to self-control.

The Creator

Visually fantastic, thrilling and moving, this treatment of AI goes somewhat against the current grain, which takes us to places we don’t expect. The Guardian described it as ‘ambitious, ideas-driven, expectation-subverting, man-versus-machines showdown, … one of the finest original science-fiction films of recent years’.

Detroit (dir. Kathryn Bigelow)

1967, riots in Detroit, the Algiers motel incident. It’s history, but the theme of police treatment of black suspects/bystanders is horribly present-day. It’s extraordinarily tense, and that tension keeps on building.

Empire of Light

This had very mixed reviews, but I watched anyway, and I liked so many things about it. Olivia Colman, for one (she’s always a reason to give something a go, at least, and she is outstanding in this). One of the more sympathetic reviews described it as ‘sweet, heartfelt, humane’, which I think is about right, and notes that it’s not afraid to be brutal and very dark when the story requires that.

The Favourite

Colman again, proving her remarkable virtuosity and versatility. Here she’s the borderline bonkers Queen Anne, with Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone as the two women jostling for her capricious favours.

Inside Man

A Spike Lee heist movie, with a starry cast including Washington, Ejiofor, and Jodie Foster. The plot twists and turns like a very twisty thing.

Judas and the Black Messiah

The murder of Black Panther leader Fred Hampton, brilliantly portrayed by Daniel Kaluuya who oozes charisma, with Lakeith Stanfield as the titular Judas, oozing unease. It’s thrilling, but also subtle and perceptive.

Killers of the Flower Moon

I read the book (by David Grann) a couple of years back and thought at the time that it would make a great film. Here is that great film. Superb performances from de Niro, di Caprio and, most particularly, Lily Gladstone as Molly, the beating heart of the film. It’s long, and perhaps could have been tightened up a bit at the mid-point, when one starts to wonder when the proto-FBI guy is going to show up. But on the other hand, that’s the point in the film when Molly moves to the centre of things (even when she’s off screen). There’s an intriguing final sequence when, rather than scrolling text telling us what happened to the protagonists we get a view of the studio where a radio programme is being recorded, part of a series on the history of the FBI. It raises all sorts of questions – the transformation of these horrifying events into public entertainment (Scorsese challenging himself there), and the voicing of the Osage protagonists by white folks.

Leave the World Behind

Adapted from the book by Rumaan Alam, which I read a year or so ago, this is very well done, with great work from Julia Roberts, playing a truly unpleasant human being, Ethan Hawke and Mahershala Ali in the lead roles. It builds the unease skilfully, with some brilliantly strange scenes (I particularly liked the Teslas) as the protagonists bicker and speculate, and then it leaves the protagonists, and us, in mid-air as it were, still not knowing for sure what is happening, and not knowing at all what will happen next, how/whether they can survive.

Living

When I saw the trailer for this, I said that I would wait for it to come on to TV because I feared it would be the kind of film that would trigger embarrassingly loud sobbing. I wasn’t wrong, but it took until the final sequence for ‘something in my eye’ to give way to floods of tears. The story is very British, very understated, and Nighy is perfect, as is Aimee Lou Wood. It all comes together very movingly, with a soundtrack that was guaranteed to floor me.

Marshall

Good, solid legal drama based on the career of Thurgood Marshall (Chadwick Boseman). It works as a generic courtroom drama, but with the context that the accused is a black man, charged with the rape of a white woman, and that his lawyer is black, working with a white Jewish man, in 1941, which gives it whole other layers of tension. It also reminds me how good Boseman was, and how sad a loss.

The Marvels (dir. Nia da Costa)

Hugely enjoyable, often funny, with the delight of seeing the three Marvels working together (and swapping places unpredictably). Iman Vellani, Kamila Khan aka Ms Marvel, is a tremendous source of energy and enthusiasm, bubbling and babbling in her hero worship of Captain M (‘Captain, my Captain’, as she puts it), and trying to find the right ‘made-up name’ (as one Peter Parker put it) for Captain Monica. If I had to find fault it would be that we just don’t get enough of the back story to feel the weight of Captain Marvel’s guilt and remorse, why she is called ‘The Annihilator’, and why Zawe Ashton’s Dar-Benn is raging across the universe to (as she sees it) right the wrong that was done to her people. It’s too lightly sketched in. And the significance of the rather delightful planet of Aladna, where the Captain briefly swaps her superhero combat gear for a princess dress, and where everyone sings rather than speaking, is also touched on lightly, and we don’t return there to see the consequences after the Krill steal their oceans (or some thereof). The film tries to do too much, particularly given the comparatively short running time. But we can meanwhile enjoy the Marvels, enjoy Goose and his/her progeny providing a novel solution to an escape pod problem, enjoy Kamila Khan’s parents rising to the occasion with remarkable sang froid, and in all honesty to simply enjoy the fact that this is all really, really, annoying the toxic man-boys who feel threatened by these glorious, powerful, funny, and beautiful women.

The Mitchells vs the Machines

Brilliant, animated AI themed sci-fi with masses of heart and humour. (And Olivia Colman.)

Northern Soul (dir. Elaine Constantine)

A slice of social realism, kind of old-fashioned, I suppose, in charting teenage rebellion, musical epiphany, and descent into violence and addiction. But the music! Northern Soul was the soundtrack of last summer, unexpectedly, thanks to the Northern Soul Prom, which set me off binging those glorious, exhilarating tunes. And that lifted the drama, which beautifully conveyed the oddity of these rare slices of US soul taking such hold on the lives of young working-class northern lads and lasses.

Oppenheimer

Another blooming long film (though I can’t say I was conscious of how much time was passing whilst I was watching). We watched at the IMax, being as Nolan apparently said he’d created it for that, but unlike Dunkirk, where the size of the screen enhanced the immersiveness of the soundtrack and the tension of the drama, here it is only sporadically relevant, given that long sections of the movie are set in committee rooms and court rooms, with a lot of men talking. No matter. It’s an excellent drama, Cillian Murphy is superb, as is Robert Downey Jr. Emily Blunt and Florence Pugh are great, but somewhat under-used. Oddly, the three great Jewish scientists at the heart of the drama (Einstein, Oppenheimer, and Heisenberg) are all played by non-Jews (Conti, Murphy and Branagh respectively), which begs some questions – does it matter? If it does, what do we do about it? Did the casting raise any questions for Nolan, or was it just not thought about?

I followed up the movie with a re-watch of the 1980s drama with Sam Waterston in the lead role (very good, though slow-moving and some of the American accents sounded a bit shonky to me), and a documentary about Oppenheimer’s trial.

Paris Memories (dir. Alice Winocour)

A young woman caught up in the 2015 Paris attacks (see also the documentary on those attacks, below) tries to process her memories (or lack thereof) and the trauma she suffered, physically and mentally. It’s excellent, and takes us to some unexpected places, exploring the impact of those events on the ‘sans papiers’ who worked in the bistros that came under attack. Very moving.

The Post

Excellent, solid Spielberg drama about the Washington Post’s publication of the Pentagon papers. Kind of a prequel to All the President’s Men. Hanks and Streep are predictably great.

The Remains of the Day

Another one that I really should have seen ages ago, and don’t know why I never had. I read the book, I love Kazuo Ishiguro’s work, I’m fascinated by that period just before the war and the history of appeasement, I love Emma Thompson… Anyway, I have now watched the film and it’s every bit as good as everyone says. The sense of repression of emotion, of engagement, is so strong, especially in Anthony Hopkins’ performance, it’s almost infectious.

Rustin

The film foregrounds Bayard Rustin’s role in organising the 1963 March on Washington – he has been left in the shadows compared with some of the other black leaders involved, and it’s clear why. He was gay, and didn’t pretend otherwise, which made him a target for the FBI, but also made other leaders, particularly those most strongly linked to the church, uneasy with him. It’s not a perfect film, a little bit predictable and ‘worthy’, but Colman Domingo is tremendous as Rustin (and Aml Ameen is great as MLK too, an understated and subtle performance), and it’s good to see Rustin taking the place in the spotlight that he so clearly deserved.  

Sapphire

Something of a curio – a British crime film from 1959, in which the victim is a young black woman who’s been passing for white. The film takes us into black London nightlife of the time, and explores racism through of the prejudices of both the junior policeman investigating the murder, and the family of the victim’s fiancé. Features Earl Cameron, one of the first black actors to take a lead role in British films. It’s dated, of course, but bloody good for its time, and fascinating.  

The Sense of an Ending

Adaptation of Julian Barnes’ novel, which I read and about which I was ambivalent (as I have been about other Barnes). But whereas the book did deliver a punch to the gut, a real sense of shock and tragedy, the film is just too polite. It’s all very well done, and one can’t fault the performances (Broadbent, Walter, Rampling in the leads), but it felt somewhat distant, detached, reserved.

The Silence of the Lambs         

I’d never seen this. No idea why – I’d read the book many years ago, and there must have been opportunities to see it on TV many times since then. No matter, it was excellent, desperately tense and Hopkins and Foster were both superb. That final sequence with Foster being stalked in the dark is terrifying and horrible to watch, not least because for some of it, we’re seeing things from the killer’s point of view. One gets that less today, perhaps, which is a good thing…

Silver Dollar Road

Brilliant documentary from Raoul Peck (director of I am Not Your Negro) about a black family in North Carolina, who find their ownership of property which had been in the family’s hands for generations is challenged, and that the weight of white society is now pressing them to give up their homes (two of them were imprisoned for eight years for trespassing by not moving out of their houses). It’s depressing, but the resilience and determination of the family is very moving.

Testament of Youth

It was inevitable that I would compare this to the BBC version broadcast in 1979, which I adored. And in many ways, it stands up very well. But whilst Alicia Vikander smoulders beautifully, Cheryl Campbell blazed, and the film somehow is more polite than the TV series, even if it is unflinching in the scenes in the field hospitals, the mud and the blood and the agony. It’s visually great, including one very striking scene when Vera rounds a corner to see a field of stretchers, each bearing a seriously injured (or already dead) soldier – surely a nod to the panning shot in Gone with the Wind of the square in Atlanta filled with stretchers, but which also reminded some reviewers of the scene in Oh What a Lovely War, with the white crosses on the hillside.

There will be Blood

Daniel Day-Lewis goes over the top (way, way over) in this gripping, unhinged tale of greed and ruthless capitalist exploitation.

Till (dir. Chinonye Chukwu)

The story of the murder of Emmett Till and his mother’s battle for some kind of justice. Danielle Deadwyler is exceptional. It’s a shattering, brutal story and it unfolds with a terrible inevitability, not just because we know the outcome in this particular case but because ‘sassy black kid goes South’ at that time was never, ever going to end well. Some reviewers questioned whether we need to keep telling these stories. I think we do – I knew of Emmett Till since I was a teenager reading about the Civil Rights movement, but that doesn’t mean everyone knows. And we know all too well that progress, however hard won, can be wound back. In any case, if we’re going to tell these stories, this is the way to do it.

True History of the Kelly Gang

Excellent adaptation of Peter Carey’s book, with George Mackay (Pride, 1917) as Ned Kelly. It’s a strange, violent tale, and there are no real heroes, but it’s compelling and complicated, and if we can’t share Kelly’s distorted view of reality, we can feel pity and sorrow for his life, and his death.

Women Talking (dir. Sarah Polley)

Based on Miriam Toewes’ book, which in turn is based on the series of druggings and rapes carried out in the Mennonite settlement in Manitoba Colony, Bolivia in 2005-09. There are some powerful performances here – Claire Foy, Jessie Buckley, Frances McDormand, amongst others, and Ben Whishaw as the only man allowed to witness the women’s debates about what they are going to do, having exposed at least some of the perpetrators. It has such obvious wider resonance in its exploration of the choices they face – do you fight back, do you leave, do you forgive, and what is the cost of each of those responses? – heightened by the fact that these women have been kept uneducated and dependent, and taught that they must obey their men.

TV

Ahsoka

I’m not fully immersed in Star Wars lore, so I had to concentrate to remind myself where we were in the chronology and who some of the people were. But it’s a cracking narrative, and great to have so much of it carried by female characters (on both sides).

Annika

The central character is given a fair few quirks, which Nicola Walker carries off well (breaking the fourth wall, and going off on all sorts of literary/mythological tangents) and some back story which only emerges gradually. The actual crime side of it is handled well, with enough humour to avoid melodrama but without trivialising the deaths and their implications.

Bali 2002

The terrorist attacks on Bali from the point of view of some of the survivors, and of the investigators (Australian and Indonesian) working together to try to track down the perpetrators. Powerfully done, and whilst the survivors are British or Australian, we also see these events from the perspective of a young Indonesian woman whose husband is killed in the bombing.

Becoming Elizabeth

A series cut brutally short. We follow Elizabeth’s precarious life between the death of Henry VIII and the expected death of Edward VI, but apparently there will be no second season to take her through the reign of her sister Mary. That’s a shame, because as historical dramas go, this was excellent, pretty accurate, not too burdened with period-speak, and with a properly feisty performance from Alicia von Rittburg, as well as the always excellent Romola Garai as the much more tightly wound Mary.

Best Interests

This was agonising (see also There She Goes, although that had more of a leavening of humour, albeit quite dark). A family struggling with the awful decision of whether to withhold medical treatment from a child who, the medics say, is beyond benefiting from it. This is a situation we know from court cases and frenzied tabloid coverage, given depth and humanity. Martin Sheen and Sharon Horgan are excellent, torn emotionally by the horror of the dilemma, and torn apart from each other too.

Black Mirror

A mixed bag – Joan is Awful, Beyond the Sea and Demon 79 were excellent. The others, I thought, were enjoyable but a bit more predictable.

Bodies

Timey wimey crime, with Stephen Graham in the lead role. Excellent stuff – one could quibble or question some of the plot details, but no one in the history of timey wimey drama has ever done anything that couldn’t be quibbled or queried, so I can live with that. It had me completely gripped, and often unexpectedly moved.

Crime

A pretty generic crime drama that thinks it is more than that. So melodramatic that at times it almost seemed comical. There is a second series, but life’s too short for this, I’m afraid.

The Crown

This final series has attracted a lot of hate. I think the problem is that, whereas with the earlier series, we were seeing world events from an unfamiliar perspective and getting a (speculative and fictionalised) view of royal life that we hadn’t glimpsed before. Now what we see on screen is what we already know, what we have seen in other dramas (the reaction to Diana’s death notably in The Queen, by the same writer) and in the papers. It’s not, I think, bad, just lacking in freshness and surprise. I could have done without the spectral reappearances of Di and Dodi though – that was just silly.

Doctor Who

I finished my re-watch of all post-gap Who just in time for the 60th anniversary specials, and Ncuti Gatwa’s arrival on Xmas Day. Of the three specials, the first was a delight primarily because of the reunion of Doc and Donna, and the resolution of the way they had previously parted. The story was fine, but the second episode really took off. It was just Doc and Donna here, and it was absolutely nail biting stuff about which I will say nothing further. In the third, Neil Patrick Harris had an absolute blast as the Celestial Toymaker, and we were introduced to Ncuti Gatwa’s Doc, who was as charismatic, charming and funny as I knew (from Sex Ed) that he could be, and I can’t wait for Xmas Day to see him properly inhabiting the role.

Fellow Travellers/Good Night and Good Luck

I’ve put these together because they cover the same era and some of the same events, the McCarthy witchhunts. Good Night is based on the career of Ed Murrow (played by David Strathairn), whose catchphrase gives the film its title, and his attempt to navigate the dangerous waters of McCarthy generated paranoia whilst retaining his integrity. It’s powerful and moving. Fellow Travellers extends the drama over another couple of decades, and its focus is on the ‘lavender panic’ generated again by McCarthy. This led to the denunciation and arrest of many gay men and women and many others having to bolt and barricade the closet door, and make marriages of convenience to protect themselves. The main protagonist is no hero – a bit of a bastard really – but Matt Bomer gives him depth and nuance. Jonathan Bailey and Jellani Alladin are also excellent as the McCarthy staffer and the black journalist trying to survive in this hostile climate.

Good Omens

Huge fun, with Sheen and Tennant playing delightfully off each other as angel and demon respectively. Very funny but at times with a real sense of peril, and the finale of season 2 suddenly rendered me all emotional. Hope there’s more of this to come.

I Claudius

I remember this series so vividly from 1976. And I remember the title sequence, which I still can’t watch (I even remembered the point in the title music when it’s safe to open my eyes because the snake is gone). It wears very well indeed, with the sole exception of the ageing make-up, which looks pretty ropy when watching in HD. But the performances are fantastic, and it revels in the decadence and ruthlessness of Livia, Caligula, and the rest (including Patrick Stewart, with hair, as Sejanus).

The Lazarus Project

Excellent, complex time travel drama from the writer who gave us Giri/Haji a couple of years back. There’s plenty of action, a stratospheric body count (multiple versions of people get killed multiple times), and a willingness to embrace moral ambiguity which could leave one not rooting for anyone, but (for me) made me feel for the characters even more. There’s plenty to explore in a third series and I hope there will be one, especially since we were denied a second for Giri/Haji.

Lessons in Chemistry

I thoroughly enjoyed the book and the series, although in slightly different ways. That’s partly because it cuts back on the whimsicality of the dog expressing its thoughts on events – that aspect of the book, whilst charming in small doses, would not have worked on screen, I don’t think.  The biggest change though is the complete transformation of Elizabeth’s neighbour Harriet, from an older woman, victim of domestic violence, to a woman who is in a way a mirror image of Elizabeth (young children, absent husband, ambitious in her own profession) but black. Whilst I didn’t when reading the book think about this, having the context of the civil rights movement to offset Elizabeth’s battles for women’s independence adds depth to what could otherwise be a somewhat feel-good account. It’s a risky move though. The book’s Harriet represents an individual trauma which connects potentially to all women. The TV Harriet represents the African American struggle against segregation in its overt and more underhanded forms (running the new freeway through a predominantly black residential area, for example). To do justice to that, and to adequately explore this, and Elizabeth and Calvin’s responses, needs more time than could be spared from Elizabeth and her daughter’s own stories. And I think this was apparent in the ending, which rather glossed over the outcome of the freeway campaign. But I loved so much about this, and Brie Larson was wonderful.

Loki

This latest series is overshadowed by the Majors/Kang problem. Having built He Who Remains into the whole narrative structure of the next phase of the MCU, Marvel now has to deal with Jonathan Majors as the subject of some very nasty assault charges. Do they write Kang out? Recast the role (not as problematic from an audience point of view as it might seem, given that we’ve seen multiple variants of Loki in this series)? Either would be better than continuing as they are when we don’t know what might emerge at any point, how his ‘legal problems’ might be resolved, or what impact he might have on cast and crew. If one can put that aside, however, this was a great series, and Tom Hiddleston conveyed Loki’s new-found sense of purpose without losing his spark or his humour. The interaction between him and Owen Wilson’s Mobius (when Mobius remembers who Loki is) is also a joy. We await with interest what happens next, given how we left Loki in the final scene…

The Long Shadow

This dramatization of the years when Peter Sutcliffe attacked and murdered women across Yorkshire is different from the others in that we don’t see him until very late in the drama. We don’t see any attacks either, it isn’t gory or ghoulish or salacious. What we do see is the women (a few of them, at least), as actual human beings, with actual lives, with hopes and fears and feelings. That changes things dramatically. We also see the investigation, but alongside the men (not all of whom are sexist bigots though too many of course are) we also see some of the young policewomen who worked the case and a glimpse of the impact on their lives. I thought it was excellent, with one caveat. I understand why a few characters were created for ‘dramatic purposes’, allowing us insights that we would not have had otherwise, so the invention of a young prostitute, forced back out on the streets even after someone she knew had been murdered, because she was supporting a young child, was fine. Until she herself became one of Sutcliffe’s victims, and thus displaced in that grim roll call one of his actual victims. That didn’t feel right, not at all.

The Miracle

Bonkers Italian series. A statue of the Virgin Mary, weeping blood, is found alongside the body of a crime boss, and a highly confidential investigation starts to try to work out how, why, etc. It is begging for a second series – we were left with so many questions (some but not all were just WTF??) but there’s nothing so far, and this was first broadcast in 2019. It’s compelling, bizarre, beautiful.

Mr Mercedes

An excellent Stephen King adaptation! King’s trilogy of crime novels (there are other linked novels, including his most recent, Holly) with Brendan Gleeson as retired cop Bill Hodges. There are great performances all round, and the series creates exactly the mood of unease ramping up to full on horror that is King’s speciality.  It’s way too dark and disturbing to binge but it’s absolutely compelling.

One Night

A past trauma coming to light decades on, and disrupting the lives that the protagonists have built, is not exactly unexplored territory. But this is extremely well done, and doesn’t go where one might expect. Fine performances from Jodie Whitaker (see also Time), Nicole da Silva and Yael Stone. As is so often the case, the complexity builds up over five (or however many) episodes and then the final instalment feels a bit rushed, but overall it was excellent.

Painkiller/Dopesick/Pain Hustlers/Crime of the Century

I’d been aware in general terms of the opioid crisis (not least through Barbara Kingsolver’s brilliant Demon Copperhead) but hadn’t know to what extent this was created cynically and criminally by the Sackler pharma empire. Three dramas and a documentary have filled in the gaps in my knowledge. Of the dramas, Dopesick is the strongest, but Painkiller is very similar (albeit with a more confusing structure), both moving between the small communities where industrial injuries were treated with Oxycontin, which was pressed on to the local doctors with outright bribery and lies, resulting in hopeless addiction, the Sackler organisation egging its salespeople on to sell more and more pills, and the lawyers looking for ways to stop them. It’s an absolutely horrifying story, hard to believe, but the documentary makes it clear that the dramas are not overstating this at all.

Partygate

More horrifying true crime. Interweaving the stories of individuals under lockdown, separated from the people they love, trying to do the right thing, dying alone, with the Downing Street crew, with their contemptuous treatment not only of all of us who were following the rules that they solemnly propagated, but the cleaning staff who had to sort out the carnage after their endless parties. Time for this lot to be cleared out, I think.

Poker Face

Natasha Lyonne as a woman who can tell a lie when she hears it, finds herself mixed up in organised crime and on the run. It’s pretty formulaic – she rocks up in a new place, there’s a murder, she figures it all out with her inbuilt lie detector and moves on, just ahead of her pursuers. That this doesn’t get old fast is down to Lyonne’s charisma, and the humour of the script.

The Reckoning/ Russell Brand: In Plain Sight/National Treasure

A rather queasy selection of programmes on a common theme. National Treasure is fictional, starring Robbie Coltrane as the eponymous treasure, who finds himself accused of a historic rape. It’s a tough watch, with an ambiguous ending. But not as tough a watch as the documentary on the accusations against Russell Brand, which was horrifying and nauseating. I had disliked Brand from the first time I saw him on TV, without being quite sure why, and nothing I’ve seen, in the programme or in the responses to it, makes me less hostile. Jimmy Savile, brilliantly portrayed by Steve Coogan, is perhaps more completely monstrous than Brand, if there’s any point in attempting to quantify monstrosity. As he’s dead, the programme wasn’t held back by fear of litigation, and it pulled no punches. I can’t claim prescience in Savile’s case – I thought he was irritating and weird, rather than sensing anything more sinister, but Coogan showed very cleverly and chillingly the switch from the jolly, avuncular public presentation to the callous abuser behind closed doors. Should this programme have been made? Had it not included the voices and faces of some of his victims, I’d say not. But they underpinned everything that the drama showed, and as they had been silenced for so long, this seems right and proper.

The Secret Invasion

Why was this so disappointing? I had high hopes at first, given the cast, but somehow it all went a bit meh. It isn’t down to the performances, and the central idea is great, but it needed more context, more development, more time, to build more gradually and create more depth.

Seven Seconds

Lord, this was heavy. Rightly so, given the plot (a cop accidentally kills a young black kid and a cover-up is launched). Regina King is magnificent as the boy’s mother. My caveats are that to add into an already potent mix a bunch of personal issues for the lawyer and homicide detective who are trying to get justice for the kid is all a bit clichéd, and that it ends up being a bit clunky and predictable, so that every time our guys seem to have made a breakthrough you just know that it’s going to all fall apart.

Sex Education

The final series. OK, I think it did give in to a bit more preachiness at some points, and what had seemed effortless in earlier seasons seemed more laboured, at times. The other problem is that this season’s new cast members – and there were quite a few of them – didn’t have time to really wriggle their way into our hearts as the original core cast members had. But overall, it drew the individual stories of at least some of those original cast members to a resolution in ways which respected their individual characters and their growth over the previous three series. And I was glad it didn’t do that by coupling them all up or tying up all loose ends in other overly tidy ways. It’s been a warm, funny, startlingly graphic, sometimes ridiculous but always life-affirming ride.

Silo

It’s a mark of confidence (or Jed Mercurio’s influence?) that this series could open with David Oyelowo and Rashida Jones in lead roles and then dispose of them both quite quickly (and they weren’t the last – the body count in this is pretty high). I found the pace mid-series lagged a little, it felt as though we weren’t learning much more about the silo, but then it really picked up and we hurtled to the final cliffhanger. I look forward to series 2.

The Sixth Commandment

True crime series always leave me with some mixed feelings – the necessary conflation of real and invented characters, the messing with chronology, the speculative elements. That this worked as well as it did was not down to the police procedural side of the story, but to the focus on, and the portrayal of the two victims. Both showed their vulnerability without compromising their dignity – perhaps at this stage of my life I can imagine more easily how one might be so deeply lonely that one might become prey to a manipulative conman. Timothy Spall in particular turned in an absolutely devastating, heartbreaking performance, as a man who didn’t believe he was worthy of love, and who thus took what it seemed he was being offered with gratitude and joy. As with The Long Shadow we focus on these victims, whilst the perpetrator and his accomplice remain blanks.

Strange New Worlds

This Star Trek series goes from strength to strength. It has the confidence to be funnier and more inventive than, say, Discovery (I always wanted to love Discovery more than I actually did). In this season, we’ve had a classic time travel episode, which turned out to have more emotional depth (and ongoing implications for one of the lead characters) than one might have anticipated, a cross-over with Lower Decks (an animated series) and, joy of joys, a musical episode. Like its obvious (someone actually says, ‘I have a theory’, and there is a gratuitous mention of bunnies) inspiration, Once More with Feeling (from Buffy season 6, as if you didn’t already know that), it uses the device of a compulsion to sing to force revelations from characters who have been trying to hide things from each other – here it is triggered by science rather than by a demon, of course. It is very funny (the Klingons in slightly bhangra-tinged boy band mode are a delight) and it works to move the overall narrative along.

Then You Run

I think this series has a higher body count than anything else I watched this half-year, with the possible exception of The Lazarus Project… It’s also often funny, very tense and thrilling, and often doesn’t go where you expect it to. With great performances from the quartet of young women whose post-A-level excursion to Rotterdam goes rather off-piste, including Vivien Oparah, the lead in the wonderful Rye Lane.

There She Goes

As with Best Interests, this digs deep into parenting pain which I have never had to experience. Here it is the discovery that the child has a chromosomal deficiency which means she has severe learning disabilities and autism, manifesting in extremely challenging behaviour. The series explores the tensions between the parents in trying to live with Rosie, as she grows up and the difficulties they face only change, never diminish. Excellent performances from David Tennant and Jessica Hynes.

Three Little Birds

Lenny Henry’s dramatic retelling of family stories from the 50s is a mixed bag. It pulls no punches in its portrayal of the racist reception that new arrivals from the Caribbean faced, from cold hostility to outright violence, but the drama often takes predictable turns, the humour is a bit obvious, and the central characters’ dilemmas are (apparently) solved with remarkable speed and ease in the final episode. As the Guardian’s reviewer said, it needed more grit.

Three Pines

A sadly short-lived adaptation of Louise Penny’s Inspector Gamache series of novels. Alfred Molina is absolutely Gamache, and the episodes are pretty true to the books, although developing a rather interesting sub plot. dealing with the disappearance of an young indigenous Canadian woman. I would have loved to see where it went with that, as well as enjoying the adaptations of further novels, but it came to an untimely end.

Time

I haven’t seen the first season but clearly that didn’t matter as season 2 is set in a women’s prison, with only one character overlapping. Stunning performances from Jodie Whitaker, Bella Ramsey and Tamara Lawrance.

Tokyo Trial

I saw a couple of documentary series about the aftermath of WWII in terms of justice for Nazi war criminals (see below), and this drama series complemented those very interestingly. It’s the equivalent process for Japanese war criminals and it raises the same issues of moral responsibility and grapples with the developing new concepts of crimes against humanity.

The Wire

First time I’ve returned to this series. Mainly because its impact was so huge, it towered so far above most other TV series, and it stayed in the memory so clearly. But a couple of days without internet made me rummage through my DVD box sets and I thought, yes, now is the time to go back to the mean streets of Baltimore. I wondered whether it would have lost its power, but from the very first scene on, it was everything I remembered, and more. I’m kind of dreading getting to Season 4 because I remember how utterly heartbreaking that was. But this is truly superb television.

Wolf

Blackly comic and gruesome crime drama, which leaves you guessing right to the end as to who, why and how. Sacha Dhawan and Iwan Rheon are clearly having a blast.

The Woman in the Wall

Ruth Wilson leads in this often harrowing mystery about the trauma of the Magdalen laundries. The Guardian’s reviewer said that ‘the gothic element, spilling out of Lorna’s mind and home, feels not like a bolt-on to add drama lacking elsewhere but an integral part of the story. A manifestation of the deepest possible horror, beyond reason, beyond words’.

World on Fire

A long-awaited second season for this WWII drama. As with the first, it combines a broad sweep (North Africa, Occupied France, Germany, Manchester) with individual narratives, and this works brilliantly. It does mean that we cut quickly from one scene to another, but that gives it pace and tension, and reinforces the idea that all these things are happening concurrently. It’s pretty accurate – season 1 did make me shout at the TV when a character somehow managed to make his way from occupied Poland to the beach at Dunkirk, but nothing was quite as jarring as that this time. Very much hoping there will be a season 3.

Documentaries:

Amend/13th

Two documentaries which improved my understanding of the US constitution and political structure no end. Amend is ‘a deep dive into the 14th amendment. Ratified in 1868, it gave citizenship to all those born or naturalized in the country and promised due process and equal protection for all people. Amend threads the amendment through the fabric of American history, from its origins before the American civil war to the bigoted violence of the Reconstruction and Jim Crow eras, through the tumultuous years of the civil rights and women’s liberation movements, right until today’s feverish debates over same-sex marriage and immigration’. Will Smith presents this, in a style that aims to make a heavy topic rather less so, without airbrushing away any of the horrors of Jim Crow/segregation.

13th does something similar with (obviously) the 13th amendment, but the style is harder edged (the director is Ava du Vernay, best known for Selma). ‘The film takes its title from the 13th amendment, which outlawed slavery but left a significant loophole. This clause, which allowed that involuntary servitude could be used as a punishment for crime, was exploited immediately in the aftermath of the civil war and, DuVernay argues, continues to be abused to this day.’  It’s a tough, challenging watch, and deservedly so.

Beckham

A very enjoyable four episodes, with lots of football to remind me what a wonderful player he was. I’d forgotten quite how vicious the backlash was after that foul – but how much worse would it have been had it been a black player, given the abuse directed at Rashford, Sancho and Saka after their missed penalties cost us the trophy… I rather liked David, and Victoria – considering the absolutely mad life they’ve had, they seem fairly grounded, warm and funny.

The Center will not Hold

A fascinating documentary about Joan Didion, directed by her nephew, Griffin Dunne. I only know Didion through The Year of Magical Thinking (see my books blog), but the film puts that book into context and perspective and makes me want to read a lot more of her work.

David Harewood on Blackface

A few months ago, I was at a community breakfast at my sister’s church, trying to make conversation with an older couple (my father was there too, but is beyond conversation, most of the time). Things started to go awry when the man said something about the cobbles in Mansfield market having been removed because they created problems for wheelchair users – fine, if factual, but the accompanying eye roll was something of a red flag. It got worse, when he made a hand gesture and referred to it as being ‘black and white minstrels’ and his wife chipped in with ‘you’re not allowed to say that anymore, or sing “Baa baa black sheep”’ and he muttered something about how ridiculous it was to try and change ‘our traditions’. I didn’t say anything – didn’t know where to begin with the staggering ignorance, and the staggering arrogance. Perhaps I should have tried, but it was a stressful time, and whereas I knew my father, as he used to be, would have supported my views (he and my mother hated the Black & White Minstrel Show when it was on TV at my grandparents’ home), he would not have been able to follow, let alone contribute to the discussion. Coincidentally, David Harewood’s enlightening and emotional exploration of blackface (with David Olusoga, amongst other contributors) was shown shortly after this. I don’t think I had fully grasped that the minstrel show was in its origins an overt attempt to ridicule black people, at a time when the abolitionist movement was gaining ground. Watching this made me regret not having risked causing a stir at the church breakfast by challenging them…

Evacuation

Harrowing coverage of the evacuation from Kabul, mainly from the point of view of the British troops who took part, many of whom are still very visibly traumatised by what happened, how quickly control of events was lost, and how many people who needed rescue were left behind.

Journey of an African Colony: The Making of Nigeria

A Nigerian-made documentary about this history of Nigeria, this was absolutely fascinating. Having lived briefly in Northern Nigeria (1966-67) I would have liked it to cover the years after independence, and the build up to the Civil War, but its remit was to shed light on the final decades of colonialism and how Nigeria became a nation, about which I knew almost nothing, and which does shed light on the problems that the new nation faced after the great goal of independence was achieved.

Mixed Britannia

The late, lovely George Alagiah presented this exploration of ‘mixed’ marriages in Britain, with some heartbreaking and harrowing history but also some wonderful interviews with couples who knew they would face ostracism and even violence but went ahead anyway and built lasting, loving families. It was nice to see the coverage of Peggy Cripps and Joe Appiah’s wedding in 1953, because they lived on the campus of Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology at the same time that my family was there, and Peggy and my mother were friends.

November 13: Attack on Paris

I vividly remember that evening, following what was happening via social media, and then waking the next morning to the full horror of it all. This documentary was harrowing, but the survivors who were interviewed were so insightful, and so articulate that it shed a great deal of light, particularly on the events at the Bataclan. I also saw Paris Memories (see above), a fictional account of the trauma experienced by the victims.

Reframed: Marilyn Monroe

Last year I watched (and regretted watching) Blonde and read as a corrective to that abomination Sarah Churchwell’s book on Monroe, which is very much where this film takes its stand, with lots of (female) talking heads on every aspect of Monroe’s life, and the movie industry.

Rise of the Nazis: Manhunt/Nuremberg/The Devil’s Confession

Various aspects of the aftermath of the end of the Third Reich, focusing on the attempts to track down Nazis who had slipped away in the chaos (with the help of various parties, including the CIA and the Vatican) and on the trials, at Nuremberg and subsequently. See also the drama series, Tokyo Trials, about the legal aftermath in Japan.

Stamped From the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America

Based on the book by Ibram X Kendi, this documentary is fascinating and hard-hitting, but not without hope for the future. It’s fronted by black women academics and activists, including Angela Davis, who speak both as academics/activists but also very personally and passionately.

Ukraine: Ground Zero/Ordinary Men

Two documentaries which focus on the ‘Holocaust by bullets’, where Jews were massacred on the Eastern Front by special SS units. It’s a necessary focus, as the language of the Holocaust has come to use Auschwitz and gas chambers as a simplification of the genocide, rather than as examples of where and how.

It intrigues me to look back over the period I’m reviewing and see what patterns emerge. There’s a lot of black history, not only American (from slavery to civil rights) but also the Windrush arrivals and colonial Nigeria – both fiction and documentary. There’s a fair dollop of sci-fi and fantasy and a much larger dollop of crime, fictional and true. WW2 appears to have receded a bit, and what there is emphasises the aftermath, both in Europe and Japan. I’ve probably sated my appetite now for more about the opioid crisis, what with three dramas, one documentary and two books (over on the other blog), but that stuff is fiercely addictive so who knows…

As is usually the case, my watching tends to the dark. Terrorism, war, violence against women, racism, serial killers… Thank heavens therefore for Barbie, for Marvel, and for Who. I know that some might see these as trivial, frivolous, in the face of the world events, and I disagree. Fantasy allows us to explore dark things, the things we fear, in a different way, and to extrapolate not only from the worst that human beings can do, but from the best, to see human beings as extraordinary. I do know that there are no actual superheroes out there to save the day, and that Earth isn’t really under the protection of a Time Lord, but I also believe passionately that human beings can be better, braver, kinder, that we can work together and care for each other. We can allow ourselves through the medium of fantasy to be optimistic, we can allow ourselves to hope. We also need to laugh, even in the face of darkness.

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2023 on Screen: the first half

The usual mix of heavy and fun, with perhaps a bias towards the former. As usual, I note the frequency of WWII as a setting both in film and in TV series. In TV generally, the usual glut of crime drama, most a bit run of the mill but a few absolute gems. I have a problem with some of the lightweight stuff M and I used to watch together, and whilst I have given a go to Death in Paradise, Midsomer Murders, Young Sheldon and others, I simply don’t get the pleasure in watching them alone that I did when we could laugh together, and heckle, and nudge each other when things got ludicrous. (Not that there aren’t things I’ve watched that have made me laugh.) Conversely, there are things in here I would never have persuaded him to watch – I have a higher tolerance for grim than he ever did, a higher tolerance for costume drama/literary adaptations, and also (as it turns out, who knew?) the capacity to find joy in certain reality TV shows which he would have always dismissed. But so many things here are things we would have enjoyed together, and sometimes (quite often) that makes me feel sad, whilst at the same time reminding me of our companionship over all those years. I don’t talk to him, not out loud, anyway, but watching the last ever Endeavour, and the latest series of Unforgotten, for example, I thought of him a lot, and kind of nodded to him, wherever he is (my preference is to think that he’s part of the ocean, part of the universe, because when you die, ‘according to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone. You’re just less orderly’).

I haven’t included absolutely everything I watched – series that I abandoned or that I simply didn’t have anything to say about aren’t included, nor are rewatches, or ongoing series unless there’s something new to comment on. I’ve tried to avoid spoilers but no guarantees – proceed at your own risk.

Film

After Love

I love Joanna Scanlan, and she is superb in this. I thought I’d made a mistake watching it, given the opening scene, but it was subtly done, and whilst clearly the subject matter was emotionally intense for a still relatively new widow, it was in so many ways far enough from my own experience to be able to enjoy the writing and the performances. Many tears at the end though.

Antman and the Wasp – Quantumania (cinema)

Good things about this – Jonathan Majors, mesmerising (although, as it turns out, very problematic). Michelle Pfeiffer getting a fair crack of the whip, as she should. Visually stunning. Kathryn Newton as Cassie Lang making her presence felt. Paul Rudd always engaging. Somehow though it didn’t work as a whole, or not as well as it could have done. But it was fun.

The Banshees of Inisherin

Simultaneously very (darkly) funny, and desperately sad. Farrell, Gleeson, Condon and Keoghan all brilliant. I know people who came out of the cinema after watching it feeling deeply depressed, and I can understand why – it is bleak. But it didn’t have that effect on me, somehow. And even those who were plunged into existential despair through watching it recognised its brilliance.

Best of Enemies (cinema)

NT production filmed live, and shown at our local arthouse cinema. David Harewood as conservative US writer/political commentator William F Buckley, and Zachary Quinto as liberal writer/provocateur Gore Vidal, recreating their TV debates at the time of the primaries in 1968. Brilliantly done, excellent use of very simple set with screens at the back of the stage. Harewood was superb, very well cast, but I am intrigued by the reasons for casting a black actor in the role, when, say, James Baldwin was played by a black actor, Andy Warhol by a white actor, etc etc. It’s fine, and it worked, but I would be interested to know more about the rationale.

The Boston Strangler

An interesting change of angle on the story as I knew it, following the work of two female journalists, liberated from the ‘lifestyle’ pages to follow up the search for a serial killer.

The Debt

Nazi hunting, but not presented as straightforward heroics. Not that there’s any doubt who the bad guy is, but the good guys get into some morally complex areas whilst attempting to bring him to justice. Excellent performances from Helen Mirren and Tom Wilkinson in particular.

The Deerhunter

One of those films that is so well known that I almost thought I had seen it, I must have. But no, I saw it for the first time, and had very mixed feelings. It was relentlessly depressing, but that’s not it. Once the scene shifted to Vietnam, and our first encounter with the Vietcong I was seriously alienated. Yes, I know they were guilty of hideous atrocities, but the film portrayed them as barely human, malevolent and sadistic, with no context, not even the slightest suggestion that US troops did things just as hideous. The performances were superb, even if most of the characters remained pretty unsympathetic.

Denial

Dramatisation of the libel case brought by Holocaust denier David Irving against Deborah Lipstadt. Of course the outcome is known, so the tension lies in Irving’s testimony (Timothy Spall is brilliant) and Rachel Weisz’s conflicts with her own legal team over how their case would be portrayed.

Enola Holmes 2

Perfect New Year’s Day fare, jolly and entertaining.

Entebbe

This really didn’t quite work. The frequent interjections from the Israeli dance troupe never really added anything – not sure what they were intended to add, in fact – the performance itself was powerful and dramatic but out of place. We could have usefully spent more time exploring the motivation of the hijackers, which was only lightly sketched in. And the climactic rescue was somehow anticlimactic, over in seconds (as was the real event). Pike and Bruhl did a decent job with what they were given but this compelling story made a less than compelling film.

The Fabelmans (cinema)

Ultimate Spielberg. So many themes and motifs that are familiar from his work over the decades, but here the context is very personal. It’s a love letter to cinema, and a more troubled love letter to his parents, who enabled his passion for film, but whose marriage was fragile, as his camera inadvertently revealed. There are more cinema references (to Spielberg’s work and to the films he loved) than one could possibly list, and the details of how the young filmmaker achieved special effects with no budget and very basic kit are both fascinating and endearing. Performances are excellent – Williams and Hirsch are the most showy (in a good way) but Paul Dano is very touching as the Dad, and the two young actors who play Sammy Fabelman (Mateo Zoryon Francis-DeFord, who surely has more names than any small person needs, and then Gabriel LaBelle) are wonderful. Is it self-indulgent? Well, yes, but I think he’s earned it. And I loved it.

Glory

There’s a film still to be made, from the perspective of the black soldiers rather than their white leader, but meantime this is a solid and often moving account.

Green Book

I liked so many things about this, including both of the lead performances. But if only it could have been genuinely a two-hander. Mahershala Ali’s performance as pianist Don Shirley has depths that are never fully explored – he’s by far the more complex and interesting of the two protagonists, not only because of his rarity as a black classical musician, who isn’t pigeonholed by that definition, and how he is seen both by white people (friend and foe) and by other African-Americans, but also because of the glimpses we get of a complicated personality. That’s not to say that Tony Vallelonga isn’t also fascinating, or that Viggo Mortensen’s performance isn’t great. But a film about a black classical musician touring the American South in 1962, in which the white guy is the lead actor (in Oscar terms) is perhaps missing a trick. It was Shirley that I wanted to know better. The scenes in the South are filled with real, visceral dread, nonetheless, and the Green Book itself is something remarkable, and appalling.

The Guard

Brendan Gleeson and Don Cheadle as unlikely buddies in a cop movie, encompassing organised crime and corrupt policemen in rural Ireland. They’re both brilliant – Gleeson’s Boyle is staggeringly incorrect, offensive and unprofessional but nonetheless we back him all the way, and Cheadle is buttoned up and straitlaced, but capable of being shocked into camaraderie. It’s very, very funny.

Guardians of the Galaxy 3 (cinema)

Drawing the story of the Guardians (at least in this formation) to a close, and providing an origin story for Rocky Racoon. It mixes the elements we have come to expect from Guardians with some much darker threads, and some moving moments (not that previous films have been without those elements), and an ending which reminded me a little of the final episode of Agents of Shield, in its defiantly human and non-superheroic tone.

Hitchcock

Entertaining, but I recall watching the Toby Jones/Imelda Staunton film The Girl a while back, which was a lot stronger and much more disturbing. It’s not that this one glosses over Hitch’s predilections, nor his bullying behaviour towards his actors, but it holds back, where The Girl (which focuses on the making of The Birds, whilst Hitchcock focuses on Psycho) doesn’t. Hopkins and Mirren are great though.

The Hurt Locker

Super tense, tough, immersive. Renner in particularly is mesmerising.

In the Court of the Crimson King (cinema)

King Crimson at 50, celebrated in a film which includes interviews with most surviving members of the band’s various incarnations, but which centres, inevitably and rightly, on the one person who was part of and led all of those incarnations, Robert Fripp. Infuriating, pompous and often very funny, Fripp’s genius is also on display, and acknowledged by all of the participants. And the music, obviously, is bloody brilliant.

Judy

I do have a problem with biopics – I find it hard, however good the performance, not to see it as an impersonation, a collection of mannerisms that are meant to persuade me that this is indeed Judy, but which tend to merely persuade me that Renee Zellweger is doing a cracking job of impersonating her. Nonetheless, it is a good attempt and really rather touching.

Jumanji – Welcome to the Jungle

A lot of fun, especially Jack Black training Karen Gillan in how to flirt.

Knives Out/Glass Onion

Daniel Craig having a blast as master detective Benoit Blanc, backed in both movies by a stellar cast, all of whom are also clearly having a blast. Thoroughly enjoyable, with plots that are tricksy enough to be gripping.

Lilies of the Field

Sidney Poitier won the Best Actor Oscar for this one in 1963. It’s of its time, gentle and funny, with the culture clash between Poitier’s footloose loner and the austere East German refugee Mother Superior gaining some real poignancy – what’s more, it isn’t given an entirely cosy resolution. Racism only rears its ugly head in Homer Smith’s first encounter with the local contractor who addresses him as ‘boy’ – this is resolved, when at the end Smith is addressed as Mr Smith (that’s bound to remind one of Poitier’s much grittier (and a few years later) In The Heat of the Night, and the famous line, ‘they call me Mister Tibbs’.

Manchester by the Sea

I would have avoided this a year ago, even six months ago (a heartbreaking study in grief – ah, cheers, no thanks, not just now). But I’m glad I watched it – it’s superb, subtle, moving without ever being sentimental.

The Menu

Perhaps more style than substance, rather like the food at Ralph Fiennes’ ludicrously pretentious restaurant. But the black humour works well, although I’m not sure whether it would be as effective if one knew the premiss – one is often laughing in shock.

Mothering Sunday

Elegiac in tone, the sorrow and hurt left by the carnage of the First World War pervades everything in what appears, on one level, to be an upstairs/downstairs romantic – or at least sexual – affair. It’s about ‘love, lust, grief and doubt, lacing its central portrait of an artist in the making with an air of unresolved intrigue, lingering guilt and transformative creativity’, as the Guardian put it.

Narvik

Good, solid war drama, set during the abortive Allied campaign aimed at preventing German occupation of Norway (and protecting vital imports). It convincingly portrays the chaos and the moral ambiguity of the time through the dilemmas faced by the lead characters, its action sequences are gripping and it sheds light on a wartime episode that I, at least, knew little about (I learned more, reading Nicholas Shakespeare’s Six Minutes in May – see my books blog).

Queen of Katwe

Based on the true story of Phiona Mutesi, from the slums of Kampala, who became a chess champion. It sounds potentially sentimental but the performances (from Madina Nalwanga as Phiona, with stellar support from David Oyelowo and Lupita Nyongo) ensure that it remains true to the place and the people.

A Quiet Place 2

Inevitably some of the power of the first film is lost as the narrative opens out, and as we are fully aware from the start of the nature of the threat and of the one possible defence against it. But it maintains the tension brilliantly nonetheless. Emily Blunt is great, and Millicent Simmonds as the daughter is exceptional.

Romeo + Juliet

The characters are intensely irritating, but that’s R + J for you. They’re teenage idiots, and I prefer productions that allow them to be that than those that pretend we are really in the presence of a great and profound passion. This version is perhaps gimmicky but works pretty well, and di Caprio and Danes are a very attractive and persuasive couple of teenage idiots.

Rye Lane

Everything about this is a delight. The script zings, the two leads are funny and charming, the setting vibrates with colour and activity, and it uses the classic romcom tropes but makes them feel fresh and new. It lifted my spirits, it warmed my heart without ever being soppy or sentimental.

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse (cinema)

This is wonderful. ‘Dizzying, dazzling’ as the Guardian reviewer put it. Asked what I thought of it afterwards I could barely come up with more than a few vowel sounds. With a bit of time to reflect, I felt that (a) I couldn’t grasp all of the threads – I’m just not sufficiently immersed in the Spiderman comics/films to get all of the references, (b) it was visually stunning, (c) I want to watch it again soon (and re-watch Into the Spiderverse in prep) and (d) I am still dizzied and dazzled.

The Thin Red Line

This falls short of being a great film, but it is great in parts, and is very effectively tense. The voice-overs provide a more philosophical, spiritual perspective on the brutal action, but are hard to connect to the soldiers that we see fighting and dying, and some of the famous faces who pop up briefly only to fight and die are a bit of a distraction. It’s not your conventional war film, anyway, and even if it doesn’t entirely work, it’s compelling stuff.

What’s Love Got to Do with It

Another biopic, see my comments above on Judy. This took enormous liberties with the details of Tina Turner’s life, although the fundamentals are all there. With those caveats, Angela Bassett and Laurence Fishburne are both brilliant.

Whiplash

A terrifying study of obsession, and of the damage a charismatic bully can do. The Guardian said that ‘Watching this film is like listening to a very extended, bravura jazz drum solo. You marvel at the flash, the crash, the technique – and finally wonder where exactly it is all going, and when and how it is going to end’. Which is probably fair, but unlike all but the best drum solos, you don’t take it as an opportunity to go and make a cup of tea or scroll through your phone. There’s an ambiguity about it – JK Simmons’ Fletcher is brutal, vicious, dangerous, but is he right about what it takes to achieve full-on musical genius? How does his approach fit with jazz as an improvisational discipline? At the very least it’s a film that holds your full attention whilst it’s playing, and gives you food for thought afterwards.

Wild

Dramatisation of Cheryl Strayed’s account of her solo 1,000 mile walk along the Pacific Crest Trail, in the aftermath of her mother’s death and the disintegration of her marriage, as a result of her own self-destructive behaviour. It’s a completely mad enterprise, undertaken with rather less rigorous planning than some of us might do before heading to the shops on a Saturday, and it really is rather remarkable that she survived both the various perils of the natural environment, and the human predators that she manages to evade along the way. It’s a non-linear account, the events of her journey interspersed with memories of childhood and of the traumas that led her to take on this challenge. The occasional lapse into self-help manual clichés grates a bit, but not enough to detract from the tension.

The Wonder

Beautifully done, slow and subtle, with great performances from Florence Pugh, Tom Burke and Kila Lord Cassidy in the lead roles. The soundtrack is excellent too. The only thing that jarred for me was the framing of the narrative with shots of a film studio and a voice-over assuring us that the characters in the film ‘believe in their stories with complete devotion’, and inviting us in turn to believe in this story. I’m not clear how creating that distance between us and the story helps us in that, but that story was compelling enough that I forgot the odd framing.

TV

Drama

The Bay

Timing is everything, and this fourth series of what has been described as a ‘serviceable’ crime drama was up against the final series of Endeavour and the first series of Unforgotten without Nicola Walker (see below). It is fine, kept me guessing, managed to not get totally bogged down in the characters’ personal lives (just), and the script and performances were fine. Better than series 1 of The Bay, which despite the presence of Morven Christie failed to convince, and I had thus skipped series 2 and 3. In fact, I might not have bothered with this if I hadn’t been (a) snowed in and (b) exercising all of my willpower to avoid binging Unforgotten

Better

One of the better crime thrillers of the year to date. This one genuinely kept wrong-footing me and it felt fresh despite the not unusual set-up (a bent copper wants to free herself from her obligations but can’t do so without risking her family).

The Billy Plays (Too Late to talk to Billy, A Matter of Choice for Billy, A Coming to Terms for Billy)

A very young Kenneth Branagh in this trio of Belfast set plays written by Graham Reid and broadcast on Play for Today in the early 80s. The focus is on the troubled relationship between Branagh’s Billy and his father Norman (James Ellis). At the time they were seen as a ground-breaking representation of Protestant working class life during the Troubles, and they’re fascinating to watch now, though interestingly a review in the Belfast Telegraph from 2012 is pretty damning about their relevance and realism.

Blue Lights

The stand-out new crime series of the year so far. The series focuses on three probationary coppers in contemporary Belfast, and all three are put to the test and put in real peril – it’s brilliantly tense. And whilst the premiss of ordinary coppers trying to do their job coming into conflict with secret service ops warning them off organised crime activities which are under surveillance is one that very many detective dramas have dealt with, the complexities of the environment here add layers of danger and tension. Absolutely gripping. Already commissioned for a second series and I can’t wait.

Dancing on the Edge

Stephen Poliakoff’s drama, first broadcast ten years ago, is set in 1933, when a black jazz band is trying to get a secure residency at a London hotel, and avoid the attentions of the immigration department. It’s a fascinating point in history, where so many elements and heading for collision, and there are personal dramas too. Great performances, great music, great writing.

The Diplomat

Good stuff. Elements of Borgen, mixed with Bodyguard/Treason and other politically focused dramas. The script was zingy, Keri Russell as the Ambassador was great, as was Rufus Sewell as her (possibly nearly ex) husband and a man with his own ambitions. It is definitely anticipating a second series, which I hope materialises.

Endeavour

The final series. As always, the quality of the writing and of the performances lifts Endeavour well above the bulk of detective dramas, and these final episodes are elegiac and moving, with the final episode delivering some nods back to the beginning, and to what was to come afterwards. I shall rewatch the series now with great pleasure and savour my time with Bright (who Anton Lesser develops from a stuffed shirt to a hero, with such enormous subtlety), Thursday, Strange and Morse, all over again.

Extraordinary

Everyone has a superpower, randomly allocated to them when they turn 18, except Jen. This is a broad, comic take on the whole superpower notion, where some of them are scary and others are a bit of a nuisance – we went there a while ago in Misfits, where a bunch of people (but not everyone) got superpowers after some kind of an electrical storm. It’s v funny (Derry Girls meets Sex Education?).

Grace

I’ve tried, and I will probably watch it when it’s next back, but I don’t love Grace, despite my fondness for John Simm. They seem to have dropped the weird obsession with Grace seeking supernatural guidance on his cases, even though it never produces anything useful and threatens his career. But the connecting thread of the mystery of his wife’s disappearance is perhaps less interesting than the writer intended, and at least one episode leaned on ‘woman in peril’ tropes in a rather queasy way that most dramas have moved on from.

Great Expectations

Oh, this did cause an awful lot of harrumphing. The colour-blind casting, the sex and drugs, the changes to Dickens’ plot, the swearing… I rather enjoyed it. There was plenty of Dickens in there, even with the plot changes, and it made us see some of the characters in a different light. It’s so long since I read the book (with which I was once very familiar) that I’m not sure whether some plot elements were changes or just embellishments/re-interpretations, but the ending makes use of the subtle ambiguity in Dickens’ own ending (which he had to change, under pressure from his publishers) and I kind of approved. I love Dickens passionately – have been reading him since I was at junior school – but I’m not precious about how the novels are treated. I thought Iannucci’s Copperfield was wonderful, and I found his treatment of Dora (‘I don’t belong here. Write me out, Dodie’) powerfully moving. I also loved Barbara Kingsolver’s reworking of the same novel, as Demon Copperhead – see my books blog).

Happy Valley

Sarah Lancashire is magnificent. I could leave it there, but that would do a disservice to the writing, and to the other performances. Happy Valley is a pretty bleak place, and there have been times, particularly in series 2, when I just wanted it to stop being so relentlessly grim (and I have a pretty high tolerance for grim), mainly because Sally Wainwright made me care so damn much about what happened to the characters. This final series was tense as owt, right to the end, but always maintaining that dark humour, as Catherine Cawood stomps away from another encounter with dim-witted male colleagues, muttering ‘Twats’, or reports back to her sister after the final showdown with Tommy Lee Royce that she might have singed one of her crochet blankets. Brilliantly done.

His Dark Materials

Beautiful and moving. Does justice to the books, which is no small feat. Will there be a dramatization of the second (so far incomplete) trilogy? If the same team were to tackle it, I’d be very happy to see that happen, but the ending of this trilogy is perfect as it is.

Jaguar

Spanish series, focusing on a group of Nazi hunters. Unfortunately, whilst it seems to be trying to be serious, the action sequences are often ludicrous, even cartoonish, the characterisation is perfunctory and the dialogue clunky. I had to watch it all to see how it turned out, but it wasn’t exactly edifying.

The Last of Us

I’d never played the game, but I have it on expert authority that it is the best of its genre, and transcends its genre. The same could be said of the series, which is full of absolutely cracking action but then takes time out to explore much smaller stories, like that of Bill and Frank, or Ellie and girlfriend Riley, so that we are deeply invested in the people, not just rooting for them to beat the nasty infecteds. Visually brilliant, never morally simplistic, often deeply moving, and beautifully acted.

The Light in the Hall

I watched largely because it starred Joanna Scanlan, but this story of a bereaved mother seeking answers wasn’t quite fleet-footed enough to avoid the clichés, and ended up being rather less satisfying than I’d hoped, despite the performances.

Lockwood & Co

So, about 50 years ago ghosts started to make their presence felt, and whilst they can harm adults, only teenagers can sense them and fight them. Lockwood & Co are ghosthunters, combating not only the said spectres but unscrupulous forces who want to harness these supernatural powers for evil rather than good. Very entertaining, and intriguing, and, annoyingly, cancelled after one series.

Magpie Murders

A meta murder mystery, in which an editor tries to solve the murder of a crime novelist, whilst also trying to find out what happens in the final chapter of his latest/last book, with a little help from his fictional detective. It could be gimmicky but it’s clever enough to avoid that, and is a very satisfying, multi-layered exploration of the genre, in its classic form. Lesley Manville is great, as always, as are the rest of the cast, many playing dual roles.

Malpractice

Excellent thriller based in an A&E department. The main protagonist was – quite intentionally – abrasive and not entirely admirable, but it was brilliantly tense, and felt real, thanks to the writer, Grace Ofori-Attah, who spent 10 years as a doctor in the NHS.

Maryland

I’d watch anything with Suranne Jones in. And this one also had Eve Best, who is much less frequently on the telly but is always worth watching (we saw her as Rosalind in As You Like It at the Crucible, years ago, and she was mesmerizingly gorgeous). There are other great performances here, but essentially this drama comes down to these two, playing sisters whose relationship has become tense and distant over the years, but who find themselves dealing with a crisis on the death of their mother. There’s some nice misdirection in the opening scenes which makes one think we’re going to get a mystery, a thriller even. It’s not – it is about relationships, about family, about responsibilities and how we care for each other. And it’s excellent.

Mayflies

I loved the book. And in some ways, this dramatisation lived up to it. There are two timelines in the narrative, one where the protagonists are lairy teenagers, one twenty-something years later, when some friendships have fractured but others remain vital. It’s about male friendships and the kinds of loyalty that those can inspire, even trumping loyalty to one’s partner, in extremis. I was furious on the female partner’s behalf, but I believed in the characters and in the overwhelming desire ‘not to die like a prick’, whatever that takes. The adaptation dealt superbly, and very movingly, with the current timeline, but the earlier strand remained rather unfocused, and didn’t build as strong a foundation for the later developments as it did in the novel.

Murder on the Home Front

Rather a jolly, if dark, crime drama set during the Blitz, based on the memoirs of Molly Lefebure, secretary to pathologist Keith Simpson. One assumes that the real Molly didn’t actually go chasing serial killers down the passages of the Underground, but I haven’t read the memoir, so who knows?

Mystery Road: Origin

We’d seen all of the Mystery Road TV and film outings for outback detective Jay Swan (taciturn, with a history, doesn’t always play nicely with others) and this introduces us to his younger self, where we see some, at least, of that history. Excellent thriller which, as always with this series, addresses white Australia’s past and present dealings with its original inhabitants.

The Night Agent

Often a bit preposterous, and the leading man is a bit too boringly square-jawed for my liking, but undeniably thrilling. The ending seemed a bit abrupt, which may presage a second series. I’ll watch it.

Page Eight

David Hare wrote and directed this: Nighy and Gambon as a pair of close to retirement MI5 chaps dealing with information and misinformation, a PM who is lying to the country, and the death of an activist. Lovely performances. There are a couple of sequels, which don’t appear to be available to stream anywhere at present, unfortunately.

Picard

If Season 2 got its pacing a bit wrong, but redeemed itself on the final strait, Season 3 keeps the pace and the tension taut throughout. This is despite the potential for distraction by most of the TNG cast rocking up, along with their offspring, to help Picard fight the greatest threat the Federation has ever faced. A lot of gentle humour is made of the changes that the years have made to these characters, as well as picking up some of the tensions that were always there. I especially enjoyed Worf’s neat segue from announcing himself as the scourge of X and the destroyer of Y to offer Rafi some camomile tea. A very satisfying conclusion.

The Power

Adaption of Naomi Alderson’s brilliant scifi novel where one genetic mutation/evolutionary change – teenage girls go electric – challenges the order of things around the world. It’s intelligently done, and gets the balance right between the individual stories and the bigger picture.

Redemption

Another grieving mother seeks to uncover the truth and in so doing crosses all kinds of boundaries (common sense, legal, ethical). It’s a bit overdone as a plot (see also The Light in the Hall, Without Sin) and the only things distinguishing this one are the Belfast setting and the fact that said grieving mother is a copper. I never quite believed in her, sad to say.

The Responder

‘As fast and riveting as a thriller and as harrowing as a documentary’, according to Lucy Mangan in the Guardian. She’s not wrong. Martin Freeman is outstanding, bringing real depth, and great humanity to the role of a copper mired in despair, compromised, frustrated and angry but still, somehow, wanting to do something good.

The Rig

Ecological scifi thriller, about what happens when the earth punches back. Great cast – Martin Compston, Ian Glen, Mark Bonnar, Mark Addy, all people one is pleased to see in the cast list of any drama.

SAS Rogue Heroes

Back to WWII, in Egypt, and the formation of the SAS, a bunch of mad bastards who take on missions that no one who wasn’t a mad bastard would even dream up, let alone execute. It’s exciting, the script is witty, and the characters are drawn with enough depth that we do get a sense of why they’re the kind of chaps who would sign up for this. Connor Swindells is particularly good.

The Six Wives of Henry VIII/Lucy Worsley’s Six Wives

Lucy’s latest foray into the dressing up box isn’t quite as groundbreaking as it purports to be. She wants to show the six wives in new light, to get away from the simplifications and stereotypes. But watching her series alongside the 1970 drama series, she doesn’t seem to have anything much to tell us that wasn’t in that series… The latter holds up remarkably well – there’s the odd bit of historical drama-ese dialogue: ‘your brother, the Prince … your father, the King’, etc, but the performances are excellent and each wife is given a chance to be a rounded, complicated person, neither victim nor villain. 12-year-old me was not wrong.

A Small Light

This is outstanding. A Small Light is the story of Miep Gies, the woman who helped the Frank family into their hiding place, and kept them safe and fed for two years until the Gestapo raid that saw all of the inhabitants of the Annex deported. We only see life in the Annex as Miep saw it, so we see her interactions with the family, but not their interactions with each other. And this makes the final episodes even more devastating, somehow, as we hear, rather than see, the shouts and tears as the Gestapo burst in and order them to pack. Miep sees them troop downstairs to the waiting truck only as silhouettes passing by the office door, though we do get a last sight of them, briefly in the fresh air, via Miep’s husband Jan, who is helplessly standing by outside. What we get, which Anne’s diary cannot provide, is the context, what is happening on the streets of Amsterdam, collaboration and resistance, cold and hunger, suspicion and fear. And we see Jan’s growing involvement in active resistance. I don’t know whether it is dramatic license that he is part of the planning, if not the execution, of the attack on the Records Office. This was the focus of a recent documentary by Stephen Fry, looking at Willem Arondeus and Frieda Belinfante, both gay, whose names are little known even in the Netherlands, so whether or not Jan Gies played a very minor role (Arondeus was captured and executed), it is good that this series is giving them a moment in the spotlight. I have grown up with Anne Frank, first reading the diary (in one of the more expurgated versions) when I was round about her age. It is without doubt a remarkable piece of writing, but I find myself cringing when it is described as inspirational, or poignant. My emotion on reading it is not to discreetly mop a tear but to feel horror and rage. And whether Anne, had she survived Belsen, would have stood by her statement that people are fundamentally good at heart, we will never know. What we can take from her, though, is that anyone can be a small light in a dark room. Miep Gies, brilliantly portrayed here by Bel Powley, was just that.

A Spy amongst Friends

Excellent cast, fascinating story, somehow didn’t quite catch fire.

The Steeltown Murders

Solid reconstruction of a case left unsolved in the 1970s, which was reopened and reinvestigated in the early 2000s using DNA testing. The action flits between the two time-frames (sometimes merging from one to another as the lead copper looks in a mirror, or walks the same route as his earlier/later self), so one has to be alert to the cars, the width of lapels and the amount of smoking to ensure one keeps up. It’s about police procedure and forensics, but it’s also (see Unforgotten) about how the ramifications of a murder (in this case three murders of young girls) play out in the lives of family and friends through the decades. Philip Glenister plays the older Paul Bethell (the lead copper), and Scott Arthur his younger self (older retains the younger man’s impressive ‘70s tache). It’s slow and subtle (again, Unforgotten style) rather than nail-bitingly tense and actiony, and it was compelling viewing.

Ted Lasso

Well, this final series seems to have made some people very cross, and I’m not sure why. Was it as good as series 1? No, but not many things are, and moreover neither was series 2. Series 1 had on its side that the style and tone of the show felt fresh and surprising, as well as being warm and (not that I like the word) nice, which was kind of what we needed back then. Both series 2 and 3 had more missteps and mis-hits and series 3 perhaps a few more overtly preachy moments, but fundamentally it was the same show, with the same premiss and the same cast, the same tone and style. That’s not to say there had been no development – none of the characters were as we originally encountered them, apart from the show’s one irredeemably bad guy, who remained unredeemed. It was right to draw it to a close, but there was lots to love about this series, and even its finale (although as so often, finales cram so much in that it all ends up a bit messy).

Traitors

Not to be confused with the Claudia Winkelmann reality show. This is set at the end of the war, as tensions between the Allies ramp up, and a young civil servant finds herself drawn into espionage. It’s very well done – Keeley Hawes is magnificent and Emma Appleton as the out of her depth spy is engaging and sympathetic.

Transatlantic

Set in Marseille soon after the fall of France, when it became a hub for refugees trying desperately to get visas for somewhere safe. It’s based on the true story of Varian Fry, a member of staff at the US Embassy, who’s doing everything he can to help find safe and legal routes, but then joins forces with others to get as many people out as possible, by whatever means necessary. It takes a few liberties with the facts (which I wrote about in a blog for Refugee Week some years ago) and there are oddities in the pacing (one episode is taken up with a party at the ‘safe’ house, where a host of Jewish and other intellectuals (Chagall, Arendt, Ernst, Breton and others) dress up and lark about). But that fits with another aspect of the series, which interested me – the way in which, for Fry and his associates in one sense, and for the refugees in another, this was an interlude, not, as one character puts it, real life, an interlude where people did things they’d never have dreamed of or dared to, but which could not last.

Treason

Gripping, if improbable, espionage drama, which starts wrongfooting the viewer very early on and keeps that up for the duration. Charlie Cox (Daredevil) is the focal point of the drama – the Guardian reckoned that his charm and general cuddliness got in the way rather, which is surprising, since Daredevil showed he can brood and glower with the best. In any case, once you’ve started, you won’t want to stop, and even if, when it’s all over you think, well, that was really a load of old cobblers, you won’t mind having given it an evening or two.

Unforgotten

I’ve already mentioned this a few times a propos of other (usually slightly or much lesser) series. The tension here was in seeing how it would work without Nicola Walker aka Cassie Stuart, and how her replacement, Jessie James (oh yes), played by Sinead Keenan, would go about filling her shoes, or not. It worked very well indeed – the tension in the team was so well done, and there were believable and touching background dramas for both Sunny and Jessie. And, of course, there was a body, and there were people whose lives had intersected with the deceased and who might or might not be the perpetrator, but who had lived in some way with the ramifications of the death ever since. Beautifully written – exceptional crime drama.

Unseen

Gail Mabalane plays a Cape Town cleaner who gets caught up in underworld nastiness when she tries to find her husband. She’s excellent – as the body count ratchets up and everything spins out of control, she conveys both terror and steeliness. It’s not ground-breaking, and the idea that, as a cleaner, she can be present but unseen, is not especially profound, nor is it explored deeply, but it’s a good thriller, with an interesting setting, and it’s well worth committing a few hours to.

Why Didn’t they ask Evans

Stylish and witty, less dark than some of Christie’s work, particularly those chosen for the recent batch of dramatisations. The two leads (Will Poulter and Lucy Boynton) are funny and charming and their dialogue is reminiscent of the screwball comedies of the ‘30s. It’s all perfectly judged, perfectly delivered, and perfectly delightful.

Without Sin

Grieving mother searches for the truth about her daughter’s murder. This one has got Vicky McClure, which is always an asset, and here she’s playing opposite Johnny Harris (her abusive father in This is England). It’s solid, and as the mystery plays out, it proves a lot more complex than it at first appears. If the set-up feels a bit tired, the context (grieving mother engages with a restorative justice programme in which she encounters the man in prison for her daughter’s murder – she’s asking why, and ends up asking who) is interestingly different.

Women at War

French series, set in WWI, which seemed intriguing but became ludicrously soapy, melodramatic and unrealistic. Three women, one the wife of an industrialist who’s called up, and tries to keep his business going, one a prostitute who turns out to be trying to find her son, and one a nun, who falls for an apparently traumatised soldier who is taken in to the convent hospital for treatment. The nun story was the most irritating – whole hours (or so it seemed) were wasted on watching these two improbably and blandly gorgeous people gaze longingly at each other.

Yellowjackets

Not for the faint-hearted. And don’t sit down to watch whilst eating your dinner. Two series in and I’m still not sure what’s going on, apart from the obvious, that a plane crashes in the wilderness with a girls’ football team, and we watch them fight to survive, whilst also watching their adult counterparts live with the traumatic consequences of what that fight entailed. That doesn’t tell you half of it though. There are supernatural forces (or are there?), a huge body count, and anyone who thinks they can predict where season 3 will go is deluded. Juliette Lewis, Christina Ricci and Melanie Lynskey are fantastic.

Documentary

Once upon a Time in Northern Ireland

The Troubles, told through the words of ordinary people, Catholic and Protestant, paramilitary, police and army, alongside archive footage. Incredibly powerful.

Simon Schama’s History of Now

Schama kept inspiring me with accounts of the huge leaps we’ve taken towards equality and justice – and then devastating me with the reminder that all of those gains – all of them – are under threat. Important to remind ourselves where we were, and how far we’ve come, even if we acknowledge it’s not far enough, and that there are those who want us to go back…

Race Across the World

I never watched reality TV until my husband died. Then, that first autumn as we sat, shellshocked, unable to face too much reality, it turned out reality TV was just the thing. So we got into Strictly and Bake-Off (and, more embarrassingly, Married at First Sight Australia, Selling Sunset, and others of that ilk…). This year I’ve adored Junior Bake-Off, especially Immy, whose capacity to cover herself and the surrounding area with flour, food colourings and any other substances available was impressive as well as endearing, and the ultimate winner, Amelia, who was a remarkable, bright and funny young woman who will, whatever she chooses to do in the future, undoubtedly go far. And then there was Race Across the World which I hadn’t even heard of before, but series 3 was getting a lot of love online, so I gave it a go, and it was wonderful. I was rooting from episode one for Cathy & Tricia, the best mates who got off to a rocky start when they were unable to find their way out of the park to really start their journey, but who showed resilience, good humour, good sense, and such a strong bond of friendship, and got to the finish line first. So, respect to Cathy and Tricia, and to the other contestants, who all had their moments along the way. And as well as the competition, the scenery was absolutely staggeringly beautiful.

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2022 On Screen: Full-time Report

The usual caveats and footnotes. I try to avoid spoilers but you take your chances if you read on. I haven’t listed things I watched that were just a bit rubbish in an uninteresting way. I’m still watching more than I ever used to before he died – the TV brings human voices into my home, which would otherwise be far too quiet much of the time. I do still read a lot too, but the balance between the two has certainly shifted, whether permanently or not it is too early to say. I haven’t included ongoing series which featured in the half-time report, unless there was something significant to add. I’ve noted which of the films I saw at the cinema rather than in my living-room via streaming services, only to mark the gradual return to the cinema over the last year or so, and in recognition of the very different experience that this represents. And I’ve asterisked the best stuff, though to pick a film or TV series of the year would be too difficult, given the range of genres and styles and brows.

Film

All Quiet on the Western Front (cinema)*

Superb remake of the Milestone milestone (and the ‘70s adaptation which seems to be largely forgotten – I haven’t seen it so can’t say whether or not that’s deserved). It is faithful to the book apart from introducing a narrative strand showing the negotiations leading up to the Armistice, which is very powerful, and there is a stunning opening sequence that is both shocking and moving.

Benediction*

This is a fine, beautiful film. I read the WWI poets at school and independently, and I also read Pat Barker’s Regeneration trilogy, which intersects with the narrative of this film about Siegfried Sassoon. Superb performances, beautiful soundtrack which intersperses the popular songs of Ivor Novello, amongst others, with the music of Butterworth, Britten and Vaughan Williams, very powerful and moving.

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (cinema)*

How can they follow up Black Panther, without Chadwick Boseman? By acknowledging his loss in a very powerful way, letting it suffuse the film, not pulling any punches about what grief and loss can do to us. Of course those themes were going to resonate with me even more intensely this year, as the anniversary of my husband’s funeral loomed – but I was so glad that they didn’t do the fantasy/scifi/superhero thing of in some way undoing death, or de-stinging it. Tchalla died as Boseman did, of a regular common or garden mortal ailment which all of the medical brilliance in the world couldn’t fix. And that was right. The rest of the movie – well, it was grand, it packed probably too many ideas in (a common flaw) and not all of them quite worked, but it was visually lovely, and even without Boseman (except for glimpses in flashback) the cast is superb (inc. Nyongo, Bassett, Wright, Gurira).

Blonde

Don’t. Just don’t. This was a gratuitous and exploitative take on the life of Norma Jean Baker/Marilyn Monroe, which gave her no growth and no agency, and the viewer no insight into her intelligence, her wit and her convictions. I read Joyce Carol Oates’ book quite a few years ago and don’t remember feeling like this about it, so perhaps some of the problem is the difference between reading, where I can identify with Norma Jean/Marilyn, and watching, where I am forced into a voyeur’s role. But in any case, just don’t.

Bridge of Spies

Essentially, a Tom Hanks movie about an ordinaryish sort of a bloke who sticks to his guns and does what’s right even when everyone is telling him not to. Excellent, if not groundbreaking. I liked Rylance’s repeated refrain of ‘Would it help?’ when asked whether he is worried or afraid. And his characterisation of Hanks’ character (in this film and so many others) as The Standing Man, a man who gets up again every time he is knocked down.

Dreamgirls

Highly enjoyable fictionalised account of the Supremes’ rise to fame and Diana Ross’s rise to the lead role, displacing Jennifer Hudson’s Florence Ballard equivalent. The music, inevitably, is pastiche Motown, but very good pastiche Motown, and then there’s Hudson’s blockbuster number, ‘And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going’) which blows your socks off.

Everything Everywhere All at Once

Dr Strange’s Multiverse of Madness looks relatively sane compared to this. Michelle Yeoh is brilliant (when isn’t she?), as is Jamie Lee Curtis.  I had no idea what was going on half the time, some of it was quite gross, a lot of it was very funny and ultimately it was rather poignant. Thoroughly enjoyable.

Eye in the Sky

Very, very tense. And doesn’t shirk the moral murkiness of warfare. Helen Mirren is excellently steely in the lead.

The Father

What possessed me to watch this, after spending a weekend with my father, who has dementia? I don’t know. It’s exceptionally good, of course, and the fact that it was, as one gradually realises, from his perspective, not from that of those caring for him, was fascinating and very moving.

Frances

An old-fashioned star biopic with added sleaze. Its relationship with the facts of Frances Farmer’s life seems to be tenuous at times, but Jessica Lange is brilliant. Interesting to compare it with Blonde – obviously the life stories of Farmer and Monroe have both similarities and profound differences – but despite the inevitable sense of voyeurism as we see Farmer suffer, she is shown, right until the final act, to have agency, to have some fight in her.

Harriet

Cynthia Erivo is superb as Harriet Tubman, hero of the Underground Railway. It’s an incredible story, but whilst the film obviously simplifies some things a little, it is faithful to the history, whilst leaving us to decide whether Tubman’s own belief that she is guided and strengthened by God in her work to escort slaves to freedom is right, or whether her ‘visions’ are the result of a head injury in childhood. The soundtrack, by Terence Blanchard who also did the soundtrack to The Woman King, is excellent too, and the film makes use of Erivo’s stunning voice as she uses gospel songs to communicate with the slaves on the plantation.

A Hidden Life*

Franz Katzenkammer’s life may have been hidden but posthumously he was beatified by his Church as a martyr, having been executed by the Nazis for refusing to swear the oath of loyalty to Hitler, so he has not been forgotten. And this film is a beautiful and subtle portrait of a man who, as heroes have done in every unjust and brutal regime, simply said no, this isn’t right, I can’t do it. It wasn’t just the refusal to fight for the Nazi regime, because even if he’d been given a medical corps option, that oath of loyalty would still have been required, and he couldn’t do it. It’s a long film and I started off wondering how on earth this fairly simple story could be spun out to three hours plus. But the pacing of the film was just right, and it was essential that we felt the pattern of his life on the farm, the seasons and the harvests, to know what he was risking and why.

I Came By

Well, Hugh Bonneville may not have convinced me as Mountbatten (see below) but he actually was quite convincingly sinister in this thriller, even if the plot was a bit creaky.

The Iron Lady

And another film about dementia. Why do I do this? I watched it not because of that, but out of curiosity to see how Streep played Thatcher, particularly having seen Gillian Anderson (The Crown) and Patricia Hodge (The Falklands Play) in the role recently. Streep is somewhere between the two – her Thatcher is not as odd as Anderson’s, nor as sympathetic as Hodge’s, though the scenes of her confusion are inevitably touching.

JFK

Lord, this was long. And turgid. And talky. I may have learned my lesson about Stone – he managed to make 9/11 tedious in World Trade Center and this is only marginally better. I don’t know the conspiracy theories all that well, but it seems from my minimal research that much of what he’s presenting here (via Jim Garrison) is dodgy and effectively discredited. And I can’t see why a judge would allow Garrison to expound on his theories at enormous length without tying it in clearly to the person who was actually on trial. No wonder the jury let him off. Enough already.

A Jazzman’s Blues

A labour of love from director Tyler Perry, this is a classic narrative of racism, escape through music, ‘passing’, so all of the elements are familiar, but it’s well done.

Lady Chatterley’s Lover

2022 adaptation, from Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre. I haven’t read the book since I was an undergrad (first time around) so I’m not sure how faithfully it follows Lawrence’s plot, but it has the feel of Lawrence, in its combination of earthiness, sensuality and reverence. Emma Corrin and Jack O’Connell are well cast and play it with conviction.

The Lives of Others*

Brilliant. Subtle and low-key, the oppressive atmosphere of Stasi surveillance and control is unnerving, and the character of Stasi Captain Gert Wiesler, beautifully portrayed by Ulrich Muhe, is ultimately very moving.

Loving

Ruth Negga and Joel Egerton are wonderful as the Loving couple whose marriage broke state laws in Virginia about interracial mixing and who fought this right up to Supreme Court level, and won.

The Man with the Iron Heart

Based on Laurent Binet’s novel HHhH, which I read last year, this account of the assassination of Heydrich in Prague in 1942 starts with the attack, then freeze frames and we return to the young Heydrich himself and follow him through his career before going back to the parachutists and the resistance in Prague. Because it takes this approach, there’s less time to develop the characters of the resistance members but it’s well done, nonetheless. Impossible not to compare with Anthropoid, which came out a year or so after this, and whose focus is on the resistance throughout. My one quibble with this version of events is that, for reasons I do not comprehend, it makes the son of the family who sheltered the parachutists a boy of, at most, 10/11, whereas in reality he was 17. This makes the scenes of his capture and interrogation even worse, of course, but we hardly need to make the Nazis’ crimes more hideous, given that we are about to see the wiping out of the population of Lidice.

Martha Marcy May Marlene

Proper unsettling. We have a potentially unreliable narrator in Elisabeth Olsen’s Martha – it’s a while before we get a glimpse of what her life had been before escaping to her sister, and we can’t be sure of everything we see. There’s a sense of threat remaining with her, which could just be the effects of trauma, but we can’t be sure of that either. Olsen is wonderful, and Sarah Paulson manages to get the balance between exasperation and incomprehension, and sympathy. John Hawkes is compelling in an awful way as the cult leader.

Moonage Daydream (cinema)*

This one got a lot of love from those who love Bowie, but also a lot of criticism from people who wanted Brett Morgen to make a different kind of film about Bowie. It was a visual and aural onslaught, sound and vision bombarding us with the music and the changing images of Bowie, interwoven with interview material. The latter is chronological, unlike the music and visuals, so that we get a sense of a man learning about himself, growing up in public, gradually finding a way to be at ease with himself, which was very moving.

Nope (cinema)

I loved Get Out and Us, and I am more ambivalent about Nope. It is more sci fi than horror, so I had to recalibrate a bit, as I was expecting something more like Peele’s first two movies. But I think possibly there are just too many ideas jostling for the audience’s attention here – I want to rewatch it to see if some of that comes more into focus. Performances are excellent, and there are many moments that have stayed with me, but I can’t quite grasp it as a whole.

October 1

Fascinating Nigerian crime thriller set in the weeks leading up to independence. It’s not a whodunnit, strictly speaking, since the perp is pretty easily identifiable early on. What we don’t know is why. But even that isn’t where all of the interest lies – that’s in the tensions that exist between the Hausa detective who’s leading the investigation, and the Igbo and Yoruba people who live in the area, along with a handful of supercilious Brits. The bit where one character ‘foresees’ that in seven years there would be civil war is a bit on the nose – by 1966 civil war was gearing up with coups, counter-coups and pogroms, and in ‘67 it was raging – but of course it was all too foreseeable, even if not with that level of precision.

See How they Run

Highly enjoyable, very meta, Christie spoof/hommage, with an excellent odd couple pairing of cops in Sam Rockwell’s weary, boozed up Inspector, and Saoirse Ronan’s bright eyed and idealistic Constable.

Soul

Another Pixar gem. Obviously I was going to love the jazz theme, and the score, and I loved the central character (voiced by Jamie Foxx). It’s about what makes us who we are, what is the spark that animates our lives, and it’s very touching.

Spencer

The anniversary of her death meant lots of Diana-centred TV. This was very good, not a conventional or realistic biopic but a glimpse into the world of someone on the edge, who’s given up on being what her circumstances require her to be. The scenes with her and her children are very touching, and ring true. The Family are kept largely in the background (apart from a couple of scenes with the (then) PoW, played by Poldark’s Evil George, Jack Farthing). It’s interesting to compare with Elizabeth Debicki’s take in The Crown Season 5 – I think Stewart is somewhere between Debicki and Emma Corrin’s earlier version of Diana).

Thor: Love & Thunder (cinema)

Tonally all over the place – the humour is pretty broad (the goats), but the scenes with the captured children are genuinely tense and scary, and the ending packs some emotional power. Thoroughly enjoyable.

The Train

This would have passed me by entirely as I’m neither a Burt Lancaster fan, particularly, nor interested in trains, at all. However, someone on Twitter mentioned it and I am glad they did, as it confounded all of my expectations. I envisaged a straightforward early 60s action movie (Alistair MacLean, that sort of thing), but whilst there is plenty of action, there are also moral dilemmas – do we risk lives to save artworks from being removed to Germany before the Allies reach Paris? – and the tension of waiting for the Allies to arrive and how that affects the actions of the Resistance, is powerfully present (reminded me of Is Paris Burning?). Lancaster apparently learned some of the skills of a railway engineer and you can almost smell the sweat and the engine oil. Absolutely gripping, and avoids the typical war movie clichés.

Trees of Peace

A very different treatment of the Rwandan genocide. We see only what can be seen from the hiding place under the kitchen of a Hutu home, by the four women sheltered there – through a small window, which they dare not look out of for long, and through the trap door when the husband periodically brings them food supplies. It’s extremely claustrophobic, and the horror outside is powerfully conveyed through sound – gunfire, shouting, weeping, screaming. It’s a tribute to the Rwandan women who led much of the reconciliation and justice initiatives after the genocide was over.

A United Kingdom

Excellent portrayal of the marriage between the heir to the throne of Bechuanaland and an English girl, which had huge political ramifications. Oyelowo and Pike are very convincing, and Pike does a lovely job of showing her uncertainty as to how to behave when she first arrives in her new ‘kingdom’.

Viceroy’s House

Partition, a theme in this year’s watching and reading, due to the anniversary, here from the perspective of Mountbatten and his wife, arriving as the last Viceroy, and overseeing the process that carved up India and left whole populations on the wrong side of new borders, with horrific consequences. We see the violence, the queues of refugees, but also the ludicrous carving up of the Viceroy’s library (does Pakistan get Jane Austen, or the Brontes?) and the silverware (divvied up proportionally according to population size). I wasn’t entirely convinced by Hugh Bonneville as Mountbatten. But the biggest problem with the film is the Romeo & Juliet romance across the divide, which seemed manufactured, and the happy ending was both predictable and entirely improbable. It was, perhaps, a missed opportunity given that the director’s grandmother survived (barely) the events of Partition, and her real story might have been more compelling for being less romantic.

Who You Think I Am

Juliette Binoche (excellent) in a very twisty tale of false identity and internet romance. It took me a while to put the pieces together, and I’m still not sure they all fitted, but it was compelling and entertaining.

The Woman King (cinema)*

Women warriors in 18th century Dahomey (now Benin)? Sounds like my kind of movie, and indeed it was. Viola Davis was brilliant, as was Thuso Mbedu as the young recruit to her army. The film doesn’t dodge the tricky questions about slavery and about the treatment of women (even in a society which has an army of powerful women). It was filmed in South Africa but the scenes along the coast reminded me powerfully of my childhood visits to Cape Coast, where we visited the castle and its Door of No Return, from which the captured slaves were loaded onto the ships.

The Young Victoria

Enjoyable, but not massively enlightening. Emily Blunt is excellent, of course, and her Vic is pretty feisty, and the relationship with Albert is charming. It resonated often with the early series of The Crown, where Claire Foy’s Elizabeth is discovering that whilst she may be a monarch she can’t actually change anything.

TV

AIDS: The Unheard Tapes

Recorded interviews with people with AIDS, some who made it, some who didn’t. Honest and direct, these interviews take us through from the first early warnings of an epidemic to the miracle of a treatment that actually worked. All of the interviews are voiced by actors so the viewer does not know, until the final episode, who died and who survived, and that realisation – in both cases – is incredibly moving.

Andor

Prequel to Rogue One, one of my favourite latter-day Star Wars films. It takes a while to get going but once it does, it’s phenomenal. I enjoyed Mando, but this is stronger and darker, and – once it builds up the momentum – totally compelling.

Borgen

Fascinating series – here the personal is political and vice versa, as we accompany Birgitte Nyborg Christensen on her rise to power. She’s a sympathetic character, but we see her flaws, we see how she’s prepared to manipulate people (even her own family), and how ruthless she can be, whilst being fundamentally a good person. It’s intelligently done and I now understand an awful lot more about Danish politics than I ever expected to.

Call my Agent

The French original, not the remake. Very funny, often wildly OTT, with highly enjoyable turns from some of the top stars of French cinema (Binoche, Huppert, Reno and many more), sending themselves up something rotten.

The Capture

Even more than Series 1, this second series is likely to induce a degree of paranoia in any of us. Can we trust anything we see or hear? Apparently not. I have no idea how plausible it all is, but no matter, it was gripping and kept on wrongfooting me.

Crossfire

This got a critical hammering from some reviewers, but I enjoyed it – it was very tense, the lead character (Keeley Hawes, brilliant as always) was not entirely likeable (she does that very well too – see Line of Duty and It’s a Sin), but we end up rooting for her anyway, as the hotel she and her family and friends are staying in is attacked by armed men (terrorists? We don’t know who or why at first). Written by Louise Doughty, one of my favourite contemporary writers (and very versatile – best known for Apple Tree Yard, but her finest book (IMHO) is Fires in the Dark about the Roma Holocaust), which is why I decided to watch even after some rather snarky reviews, and I’m glad I did.

Daredevil

Marvel noir. We’d watched Series 1 a couple of years back but for some reason hadn’t continued with it. Series 2 was strongest when focusing on the Punisher rather than on Electra, I think, but Series 3 was the strongest, with the return of Kingpin. Daredevil himself is a bit broody (OK, he’s given plenty of reasons to brood, but it can be wearing – which is why his appearance in She Hulk was such a delight). Very enjoyable.

Descendant*

This is a remarkable documentary, about the recovery of the slave ship Clotilda, which brought slaves to Alabama after the abolition of the trade, and which was then sunk to avoid prosecution. There’s a community there who are directly descended from the Africans who were on that ship. Not only that, but Zora Neale Hurston made a film about that community, featuring the last of those Africans, Cudjo Lewis. Seeing him on screen gave me goosebumps. The descendants have had conflicted emotions about the raising of the ship, fearing that their history would be appropriated for tourism and profit by, in some cases, the descendants of the very people who had kidnapped and enslaved their own ancestors, and those who had encouraged the liberalisation of rules about heavy industry in the area, resulting in cancer clusters amongst the Africatown people. But they have allies who are determined to ensure that their history remains their history.

Doctor Who

The last time the Doctor is Jodie Whitaker. The season finale was typical of the Chibnall era, loads of stuff happening, impossible (at least on a single watching) to keep track of all the threads, but things come together very nicely at the end. Her final words included a nod to Dennis Potter’s extraordinary interview with Melvyn Bragg after he knew he was terminally ill – ‘the blossomest blossom’ – which was very moving (that interview has stayed with me ever since we watched when it was first broadcast, as a beautiful musing on mortality). There’s a lot in this finale for the Whovians, which is fine by me, especially as we’re coming up to the show’s 60th anniversary – it was rather lovely to see Docs 5, 6, 7 and 8, and 1 as portrayed by David Bradley, and to see Ace and Tegan back in the fray. And the Doctor’s companions’ support group was a delightful idea – I would have liked to listen in on a lot more of that. I’ve loved Whitaker’s Doctor, even if not all of the stories have been quite as strong as the best of RTD and Moffat, and she’s opened the door for future Doctors to be anything they damn well please. Lots to look forward to in 2023.

The English

The landscapes are stunning, the pace is varied, sometimes dreamily slow, sometimes all crackle and fire and violence. Emily Blunt and Chaske Spencer are both excellent and make a compelling duo. It’s hard to write about, but it’s exceptional TV and I will rewatch it soon, to appreciate its subtleties and its beauty.

Good Grief

Rev. Richard Coles exploring ways of working through bereavement (laughter yoga, skydiving, animal therapy, widows’ retreat). As always, his engaging, reflective, self-deprecating style was just right for the topic, and whilst it did, inevitably, make me cry a fair bit, it also made me think a lot about the process I’m going through, and how I can understand it better. Thanks, Rev.

The Good Nazi

A Nazi who saved Jews in Vilnius by employing and housing them, and who enabled at least some of them to find hiding places when the SS decided to eradicate them. I would have been interested to know a lot more about Plagge – why did someone who was a very early member of the Nazi party and rose through the ranks, suddenly become so appalled by what they were doing that he decided to risk his life to undermine it? But a lot of the programme was about the archaeological investigation in the housing blocks where the Jewish workers were living, and the search for evidence of the spaces where they hid during the last days before the Red Army arrived, and this was fascinating in itself.

Help

I couldn’t bring myself to watch this when it was first broadcast, too close to the events. I’d found the news footage from care homes particularly heartbreaking, with elderly residents unable to understand why their family members couldn’t come in to see them. The drama focuses right down on one care home, and within that one care worker (Jodie Comer) and one resident (Stephen Graham, playing a 47 year old with early onset Alzheimers). Given those two in the cast, it was always going to be powerful (and the other actors included Ian Hart, Sheila Johnston and Cathy Tyson, so the quality throughout was high). The central part, where Comer’s Sarah finds herself managing alone through a night shift with a resident dying of Covid is shot in a long take so we see her rushing from one place to another, from the phone to the critically ill resident and back again, trying to manage, trying to get help, and weeping as she does so, and it’s a stunning piece of film making. The third act didn’t convince me (or the Guardian reviewer) but up to that point it was a triumph and if you didn’t feel angry as well as heartbroken by the end you probably don’t have a soul.

High Fidelity

A gender switched version of Nick Hornby’s book, which was filmed with John Cusack in the lead role, here taken by Zoe Kravitz. I’m so up for that – when I read the book, I felt some affinity with the lead character despite him being a bit of a dick, mainly because of his obsessiveness about music, and making lists of songs, all of which I could identify with. I gather there will only be this one series which is a shame, but it was very enjoyable, and Kravitz is very engaging.

India 1947: Partition in Colour

Partition again – a documentary series using contemporary footage as well as talking heads. Very well constructed, lucid explanations, passionately expressed, of what happened and why.

Inside Man

David Tennant, Stanley Tucci, Stephen Moffat – what more could one wish for? If one wished for an entirely plausible plot one would be disappointed. However, the way it works is to create a sequence of chance events that set in motion an inexorable series of desperate and disastrous decisions that build and twist towards a desperate and disastrous outcome, all overseen, bizarrely, by Tucci’s criminologist/death row prisoner. To say more than that would risk spoilers – if you’re prepared to suspend your credulity and just enjoy the ride, as I did, go for it.

Is That Black Enough for You?

In-depth account of black Hollywood – actors, directors, producers – from the 30s to the late 70s. Fascinating stuff, though the narration is sometimes a little dry, and I would have liked it to take the story a few decades further – maybe a Part 2? The big names are here (interviewees include Belafonte, Fishburne and Samuel L Jackson) but so are many, both behind and in front of the camera, of whom I had never, or barely, heard.

Jessica Jones

This, like Daredevil, is noir, very noir. And it twists the beguiling charm of David Tennant into something terrifying and horrific, for which I may never forgive them…

Jewel in the Crown

I wondered how this series, which had a huge impact on me when first broadcast (1984) would stand up. I need not have worried – it is superb throughout. The cast is outstanding and the narrative tension is so intense – I re-watched it around the time of the anniversary of Partition so it had an added, very powerful resonance (Paul Scott’s novels were where I first learned about Partition). The final episode, the scene with the train, is imprinted so firmly in my memory after all these years that I could have said, with Ahmed, ‘It seems to be me they want’, as he stepped out of the carriage. And other moments too: Daphne Manners, saying ‘Steady the buffs’ as she walks into the darkness of the Bibaghar Gardens, or the way she lifts her chin defiantly and resolutely when she says of Hari Kumar, ‘Oh, he’s just a boy who went to Chillingborough’.

Karen Pirie

Superlative detective drama from Val McDermid. Pirie is a fine creation, entirely believable and likeable, and the writing and plotting were of a very high standard.

The Lazarus Project*

This is a cracker of a thriller, by the writer of Giri Haji, the best thriller series of 2021. That didn’t get a second series, but I am very much hoping this one will. Great cast, fascinating premiss, and the idea of a timeloop (I do love a timeloop) is explored rigorously and pitilessly.

The Long Call

An Ann Cleeves adaptation that is neither Vera nor Shetland – as always, well plotted and an interesting setting (in an extreme fundamentalist community). The lead detective could have been given a bit more character but if there are future series he might well grow on me.

Maxine

This probably shouldn’t have been done, but as it was, and as I watched it, I have to say it was done well. There was nothing voyeuristic here as far as the murders were concerned, and the portrayal of Maxine Carr was ambiguous – she is shown as clearly being in a coercive relationship but she’s far from being a mere victim, much more complicated than that.

Our Friends in the North

Another trip to the archives for this series, notable for the stellar careers it launched (Eccleston, Craig, McKee and Strong). It’s a gritty take on politics and social change from the ’60s to just before the Tories lost power in 1997. Some things don’t wear too well – the sex scenes were excruciating, and the amount of nudity required of the female characters was annoying. But it had a lot of heart, and a lot of anger, and great performances (aside from the four already mentioned, Peter Vaughan was particularly brilliant).

Passport to Freedom

Gripping Brazilian series about the staff at the consulate in Hamburg who managed to get visas for hundreds of Jews, until the point when Brazil entered the War on the Allies’ side. I had never heard of Aracy de Carvalho but she has been recognised as one of the Righteous among the Nations. I assume some of the peripheral characters and events may have been invented or enhanced for dramatic purposes, but it the core of the narrative was soundly researched, and it was all very well done.

Queer Eye

We were late coming to this delightful party, but fell hopelessly in love with all five of the Queer Eye guys. They’re funny, warm and utterly charming, and spending time in their company is most therapeutic.

Rings of Power

This looks absolutely stunning – it takes a while to build and seems quite slow at first, but it’s setting up a world, and this pays off as the series progresses. Morfydd Clark is excellent as Galadriel. 

The Roads to Freedom

Another archive treasure, this is an adaptation from 1971 of Sartre’s trilogy, set in the period just before the Nazi invasion and the fall of the French army. Would anyone make something like this now? Not a lot happens, at least until the final episode, the ‘action’ is all in Matthieu’s head (Michael Bryant, superb, playing Sartre’s representative in the novels) as he constantly questions his own motivations and desires, the nature of freedom, and so on. I loved it.

Sex Education

The frankness is slightly startling at first, but one quickly gets used to it, because the tone overall is really very sweet and funny. The setting is odd – the school is straight out of Sunnydale, and it appears to be set in open countryside, which makes one wonder about its catchment area – but that gives it perhaps more universality than if we’d been able to locate it somewhere recognisable. The performances are delightful.

She-Hulk: Attorney at Law

Firstly, it’s always brilliant to see Tatiana Maslany, who pulled off a real acting coup in Orphan Black by playing multiple clones so cleverly that I more than once had to stop myself looking them up on IMdB. Secondly, it’s funny, and feminist. Thirdly, Daredevil shows up, and Tim Roth having enormous fun as Emil Blonsky.

Sidney

This documentary on Sidney Poitier is fascinating and moving. I had no idea about his early life, about how he got into acting, and it made me admire and respect him even more than I did already. For anyone interested in the civil rights movement, and in Hollywood in the 50s and 60s, this is a must-watch.

Strange New Worlds*

I enjoyed this unequivocally (in comparison to Star Trek Discovery, about which I have longstanding reservations). Anson Mount as Captain Pike is great, and I love Spock and Uhura, but all of the lead characters have a bit more spikiness to them than their Discovery opposite numbers. Some great storylines here, a nice balance of peril and humour.

The Suspect

Aidan Turner in a rather impressive beard portrays a very clever man who behaves like an idiot when he realises he’s potentially compromised in a murder investigation. It’s all very gripping and enjoyable but I didn’t really believe a word of it.

This England

This series really couldn’t decide what it was trying to do and the various elements clash horribly. There’s no need for reconstructions of the events that we all saw on the screen only a couple of years ago – it’s much more interesting, even if highly speculative, to go behind the scenes and see the private interplay between Johnson and Cummings and so forth. And these scenes are intercut with sequences in care homes and IC wards, which are relentless and powerful, genuinely hard to watch (much as the daily updates from London hospitals were at the time), which makes the indulgence of watching Boris and Carrie, or the daft dream sequences as Boris succumbs to fever, seem really quite crass. There could be several films to be made here, perhaps when a bit more time has elapsed.

Trom

Solid Nordic noir, based in the Faro Islands, and taking in police corruption, anti-whaling activism and murder.

The Undeclared War

This is in similar territory to The Capture but works rather less well, due to some dodgy plotting. What was great was the imaginative way of showing the process of cyber detective work in literal terms, rather than just endless sequences of people sitting in front of computers and pressing keys.

Vatican Girl

Documentary series about the still unsolved disappearance in 1983 of Emanuela Orlandi, who lived within the Vatican itself. The investigation takes in the attempted murder of the Pope, the rise of Solidarity in Poland, the Mafia and corruption within the Vatican. It’s compelling material, even if the programme suffers from documentary disease – repetition, gimmicky camera work and an ever-present soundtrack – as if the makers lack confidence in the story they’re telling (or have rashly committed to more episodes than the material can really sustain).

The Walk-in

Stephen Graham again, this time in the true story of Matthew Collins, the former far-right activist who now works for Hope Not Hate, and who linked up with a member of National Action who was scared and alienated by their murderous plans. What it does terrifically well is to refuse to show Robbie, the ‘walk-in’, as a reformed character, as having had the kind of Damascene conversion that Collins had. He’s still a racist, just maybe not as much of one, and not one who can contemplate the murder of an MP.

The Walking Dead

The final season. Although the many loose ends will, we assume, be picked up in one or more spin-off series – I’ll wait and see whether those look tantalising enough to watch. The final episode itself would have been better split into two, one feature length, and then a shorter coda. As it was, some of the – very gripping – action seemed compressed, with unexplained jumps in time which made some of the escapes from apparently certain death seem ridiculously easy, and one therefore resented the drawn-out reunions and farewells which had strong Return of the King vibes. But there were some brilliant sequences and not all of our guys made it (though rather more of them than we might have expected at the start, at least if we hadn’t been watching this series for as many years as we have). Overall, I’ve loved TWD, even with the Saviour-shaped slump in the middle. Along the way there have been many episodes watched from the very edge of the sofa, many great characters, many stunning set pieces, and some really inventive direction. And a lot of gore.

Wisting

Norwegian noir, Seasons 2 and 3. Good, solid crime drama that brings together the worlds of policing and investigative journalism through the lead cop, Wisting, and his daughter Line.

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2021 on Screen

I only saw two films at the cinema in 2021. It took me a while to feel confident in going back, but I’m glad I did, for the delight that was Celine Sciamma’s Petite Maman. (I subsequently saw West Side Story, see below) It seemed fitting, as well, given that the last films I saw at the cinema, in March 2020, were her Girlhood, and Portrait of a Lady on Fire. The second of those was the last film I saw at the cinema with my late husband.

There are plenty of films here, viewed on Netflix, Amazon Prime, Disney Plus and regular TV channels. It’s a different experience, certainly, less immersive (I wouldn’t check my phone during a film at the cinema whereas, I’m afraid, I can’t always help myself when at home). But it’s been invaluable, during the various phases of lockdown, and during the weeks immediately after my husband’s death when some already familiar films provided comfort and distraction.

Anyone who has read my reviews of previous years will expect, and will get, a lot of detective, crime and thriller series, a fair bit of scifi/fantasy, and some serious drama. They might not expect a flurry of reality shows – indeed, neither did I. If anyone had told me that in October/November 2021, I would be binging Married at First Sight Australia, The Bachelor (Australia), and Selling Sunset, I would have scoffed. But there, indeed, I was. They served a very useful purpose – they were ludicrous, and despite featuring ‘real’ people, seemed to have no connection to any reality that I recognised, and that was fine, because (for the most part) nothing that happened on these shows was going to break my heart into little pieces. Rather, I spent a lot of time shaking my head in disbelief…

The following list of TV programmes and films (some with commentary, some not) includes things I watched with him, things we’d watched together but which I continued on my own, things I watched with the kids in the strange weeks following his death, and programmes/films to which they introduced me.

Drama

The A Word (series 3) – excellent performances, and very touching. Not the last word on autism (it’s far too complex to be that – as they say, if you’ve met one autistic person you’ve met one autistic person) but a portrait of one autistic child and his family.

It’s A Sin – this was stunning, and devastating. Superbly played by all of the leads (special mention to Keeley Hawes, who was horrifying as Ritchie’s mother).

Elizabeth R – I rewatched this to see how something that at the time seemed like landmark television held up 50 years later. It was slow by contemporary standards, and the budget constraints were pretty obvious in the crowd scenes, processions, battles, etc, but Glenda Jackson’s performance was as powerful as I remembered it.

Peaky Blinders – My husband never fancied watching this, despite so many people saying how good it was. I started watching it, with my son, after his death – whilst it’s not what you might call comfort watching, it was something that was good in its own right and had no associations with him that might have ambushed me. It’s brilliantly done, the script, the performances, the pacing, the sets are all marvellous, even if the accents are a bit wonky…

Small Axe – What struck me most forcibly was how different each film is from the others in the series. Mangrove is, of necessity, talky, with a fair bit of declaiming in the courtroom scenes, but Lovers’ Rock has only minimal dialogue, with long sequences where we are just watching people dance and sing along to the music. Music is at the heart of all the episodes except the final one, Education where the appalling travesty of education that was all too often SEN schooling was illustrated by a teacher inflicting his rendition of ‘House of the Rising Sun’ on his class (and compounding the crime by claiming that the Animals wrote it…). These films were, individually and as a group, powerful and moving, and vital. It was hard to watch and listen to at times, but well worth doing so, whether one was generally familiar with the events and situations described or not.

Passing – Rebecca Hall’s adaptation of Nella Larson’s 1929 novel is understated, beautifully shot and full of tension. Wonderful performances from Ruth Negga and Tessa Thompson.

Petite Maman – a beautiful, magical exploration of loss. The trigger warning referred to ‘mild bereavement references’, and thankfully they were mild, poignant rather than heart wrenching.

The Dig – understated account of the excavation of the Sutton Hoo treasure, during the uneasy days just before the Second World War. Along the way it deals with class and gender prejudices, but with a very gentle touch.

The Harder They Fall – gripping and violent account of black outlaws in the wild west. Not only are most of the characters black, but women play key roles too (Regina King in particular is magnificent). The soundtrack is brilliant – gospel, rap, afrobeat…

1917 – a super-tense account of two young soldiers’ attempt to get an urgent message through to another batallion, across no-man’s land and behind enemy lines. The tension is heightened by the filming which is, for much of the film, a long continuous take

Good Vibrations – warm and funny account of the eponymous record shop in Belfast, and its role in the success of the Undertones.

The Trial of the Chicago 7 – fascinating, flawed depiction of the trial of activists for incitement of violence at the Chicago Democratic Convention in 1968. I wanted more, a lot more, about Bobby Seale, originally the eighth man, without legal representation, and at one point bound and gagged in the courtroom, but it wasn’t that film. Very talky (but how could a courtroom drama be otherwise?), and I suspect somewhat romanticised (did that final scene – the reading of the names of soldiers killed in Vietnam during the course of the trial – take place, and did junior prosecutor Richard Schultz stand, out of respect to the fallen?). The word that crops up most often in reviews is ‘portentous’ and I guess that’s fair.

Scifi/Fantasy/Horror

Battlestar Galactica – the 2004 series, and very different to the original 1970s show. This is gritty and hard-hitting – blood, sweat and tears all in copious supply. The plot was complex and intelligent, and rarely predictable (even when one is very familiar with the genre). The political/religious threads were fascinating, and the ending didn’t tie them all up neatly, leaving viewers to decide, or to wonder.

His Dark Materials – series 2 of the Philip Pullman adaptation was even better than the first. I knew the plot, but still got goosebumps

The Last Wave – ludicrous French fantasy which failed to make any sense at all. We’d watched in hope of something more like The Returned, but it wasn’t even close.

The Mandalorian – very engaging Star Wars spin-off which I managed to comprehend despite not being entirely au fait with that world.

Agents of Shield – the last ever series, and it went out with impeccable style, lots of heart, and a final episode that eschewed high drama and tragedy for a poignant glimpse of something resembling real life.

Loki – wonderfully entertaining, and the double act between Hiddleston and Owen Wilson was a joy to watch.

Wandavision – this was outstanding television. We had no idea what was going on, for quite a while, and the darkness crept up on us. Ultimately, it’s about grief. ‘What is grief, if not love, persevering?’.

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier – more like the Avengers films than the previous two spin-offs, this marked out new territory with its recognition of race, a tough look at the realities rather than just cheering the notion of a black Captain America.

Hawkeye pairs the supposedly low-key Avenger with an Avenger wannabe, played by Hailee Steinfeld. This works extremely well – she’s desperate to be a super hero, and to be the partner of a super hero, he just wants to get home for Christmas with his kids. There are also obviously bad guys and conspiracies and some jolly good archery.

Black Widow – about bloody time. But also a bit late, in that Natasha died in Endgame. But it fills in her story very satisfyingly, with a good dash of humour and lots of fighting and exploding. Loved Florence Pugh as Yelena.

Shang Chi & the Legend of the Ten Rings – a cracking addition to the MCU, with a predominantly Asian cast, this is visually stunning, and I love the cast, particularly Awkwafina and Michelle Yeoh.

The Walking Dead – on to the final stretch now (disregarding any future spinoffs). Since the Whisperers storyline it has been back to full strength, with inventive approaches to storytelling forced on them by the pandemic.

Doctor Who – a New Year’s special and the final series for Jodie Whitaker’s Doctor.The Special was OK, the series was much better – it threw any number of elements into the mix and then stirred them up furiously, and it was genuinely exhilarating. The ‘Village of the Angels’ ep was also genuinely chilling. A couple more specials and then a new (old) showrunner and a new Doc…

Deadpool 2 – very funny, very rude

Fantastic Beasts 2 – completely baffling. Did I nod off partway through? What was all that about? And why?

Happy Deathday – a Halloween choice, and a good one. I do love a time loop.

28 Weeks Later – I saw 28 Days later years ago, but had never got round to the sequel. It may not live up to that, and there were some dodgy elements of the plot that were never explained (e.g., given that the zombies are driven by mindless rage, how does the zombified father have the mental control to stalk and pursue his children?), but it was thoroughly entertaining.

Justice League – this was long. Entertaining enough (once we’d worked out that the reason we seemed to have been pitched right into the middle of the action without any explanation as to what was going on was that we’d mistakenly selected the recording of part 2, thus pitching us right into the middle of the action). I can’t get along with this Batman though – the dark broodiness seems comical.

Kingsman – very silly, very violent, quite rude, very diverting.

Lucy – started off brilliantly, got dafter, if more visually exciting, as it went along. 

The Shape of Water – beautiful, magical, strange and moving. It will also always be to me the last thing that I watched with my husband, the night before he died.

Shazam – post-bereavement fun watch

Starship Troopers – violent political satire on militaristic nationalism, based on a Heinlein novel which celebrated militaristic nationalism (and which director Verhoeven described as ‘a very bad book’ and so right wing he could not bear to read it all).

Zombieland Double Tap – not as good as the first film, but entertaining

Crime/Thrillers

NB – the adjective ‘grim’ crops up a number of times below. This is not necessarily a criticism, more of a warning that in this particular drama we are a long way from Midsomer, Mallorca or Paradise.

All the Sins (Finland, series 1 & 2) – grim. Lots of religious repression.

Darkness (Those That Kill) (Denmark, series 2) – serial killer series focusing on a profiler, who is so bad at her job that she sleeps with the perp (sorry if I’ve spoilered it, but actually I’ve saved you some time…)

Deutschland 89 (Germany, series 3) – a fine finale to the series, as we’ve followed Martin through the last six years of the GDR. Whereas much of the history invoked in ’83 and ’86 wasn’t too familiar to us, this one of course was, and it was fascinating to see if from such a different perspective.

DNA (Denmark) – entertaining, but plot holes aplenty

Ice Cold Murders – Rocco Schiavone (Italy) – the plots are ok, and the maverick detective is ok if a bit of a cliché, but the ‘comedic’ elements haven’t travelled very well and sit poorly with the darker elements of the plot

Monster (Norway) – grim. Lots of religious repression.

Nordic Murders (Germany) – not really Nordic, as we understand it. Set on an island that is part Polish, part German. Series 1 (I haven’t followed up subsequent series) started off well enough with the release of a former prosecutor after serving a prison sentence for murder, but then every episode seemed to feature said former prosecutor somehow getting involved in, and miraculously solving, the crimes.

Paris Police 1900 (France) – fascinating, set in the days when the Dreyfus affair was tearing France apart, and antisemitic conspiracy theories were rife.

Rebecka Martinsson (Sweden) – we watched series 1 some time ago so were slightly thrown when the eponymous detective looked entirely different in series 2 thanks to a change of actor. Having got used to that, it was entertaining, even if the lead characters were quite annoying.

Spiral (France) – our final encounter with Laure, Gilou and Josephine. They will be sorely missed.

The Twelve (Belgium) – a courtroom drama with two strands, a murder trial, and the personal lives of some of the jurors. There were some holes in the former plot line, and the second was a bit soapy, but overall it was enjoyable enough.

21 Bridges – v. enjoyable cop thriller with Chadwick Boseman in the lead.

The Valhalla Murders (Iceland) – Grim.

Bloodlands – convoluted plot, not entirely convincing. A second series is apparently in the works but I may not bother.

Inspector George Gently – I do love a period detective drama, if it’s done well and thoughtfully uses the period setting rather than just tapping into some vague nostalgia for the old days when there were bobbies on the beat. Gently is an excellent example of the genre – the 60s setting brings out, in early episodes, the fact that murderers faced the death penalty, the way in which the war was still so present in the minds of those who fought in it, and a barrier to understanding between the generations, the racism, sexism, homophobia and so on that were taken for granted…

WPC 56 – the tone of this is all over the place. Quite serious stuff about racism and sexism and heavy-handed policing, mingled with rather heavy-handed comedy/slapstick involving a bumbling spiv, or a clumsy copper. The lead character (in series 1 and 2) is also an unconvincing mixture of forthright and gutsy, with naïve and romantic (not an impossible combination, I do realise, but neither the script nor the performance is good enough to make it work).

Endeavour (season 6)yes, this is period detective drama. But it’s so much more. The quality of the writing is consistently high, and the performances, particularly from the core team of Evans, Allam and Lesser, are subtle and convincing – and often very moving. And of course, whilst we are enjoying the 60s/70s setting, we are always conscious that this is the ‘origin story’ of Morse and there’s a fascination in seeing Evans’ portrayal, and the scripts, gradually connecting with the original series.

Grace – didn’t quite work, despite John Simm, who I really like. It’s quite a cracker of a plot (based on, though its ending departs from, Peter James’ Dead Simple) but the eponymous DI’s dabbling in the supernatural (he consults a medium, despite having nearly lost his job over doing so in a previous case) was odd – I think we were meant to believe that the medium was the real deal and his input valuable to the case, but it wasn’t very convincing.

Innocent – series 2, but with an entirely different cast and plot from series 1. The link is that both feature people who have done time but then had their convictions overturned, and focus both on the difficulty of reintegrating with their previous lives, and their desire to expose the real murderer.

Killing Eve – season 3. OK, I know it’s not quite as brilliant as the first two, but even slightly less good Killing Eve is a cut above the average.

Line of Duty – I did not share the disappointment that some felt about the big reveal which turned out not to be such a big reveal. Yes, our household did let out an incredulous shout as we realised who was being led into the interrogation suite, but it was obvious immediately that this was no criminal mastermind but someone obeying orders from much higher up, so we are still waiting for the actual Big Reveal (series 7?)

Mystery Road – gritty Australian crime series (series 2). Excellent, and featuring a significant number of indigenous Australian actors, including the lead, Aaron Pederson. He’s incredibly dour – the character was described by the Guardian’s reviewer as ‘caught between traditions, between worldviews, between laws and lores’. The history and racial politics of Australia are always present here, whether as a troubling undercurrent or in the foreground of the plot.

Shetland – the series has long since parted company with Ann Cleeves’ novels, but stands on its own two feet very well.

Too Close – a psychological drama with a number of glaring plot holes, but great performances from Emily Watson and Denise Gough.

Traces – excellent crime drama written by Val McDermid, set in Dundee, and featuring Martin Compston (Line of Duty).

Unforgotten (Season 4) – this series is always emotionally hard-hitting. The ‘reveal’ scene at the end of Season 3 still haunts me, and the focus on the way in which the impact of the crime continues to devastate long afterwards is powerfully done. This series was no exception. Apparently some viewers were cross about the ending, which I don’t really understand – I thought it was, yes, heartbreaking but handled with subtlety and humanity.

Vera (Season 10) – we do love Vera. And I have a very soft spot for her DS, especially (I may have mentioned this in previous years’ reviews) the way he kneels down to put her crime scene shoe covers on.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy – the 1979 series, with Alec Guinness as (surely) the definitive Smiley. I remember watching it at the time and being enthralled. The opening sequence was slow, and almost dialogue-free, but told us an awful lot regardless – subtle atmosphere building and character development. Everything was slightly sepia, as if nicotine stained. The 2011 film was excellent, but I was surprised how closely they followed the series.

Gosford Park – easy to get distracted by the star cast, but one did have to concentrate to follow the plot. Thoroughly entertaining, great script, splendid performances, no depth or nuance but that didn’t stop it being most enjoyable.

Death in Paradise/The Mallorca Files/McDonald & Dodds/Midsomer Murders – murder in a beautiful setting and/or with a slightly tongue in cheek approach, nothing too heavy or emotionally engaging. There are times when that’s just what one needs.

Comedy

Brooklyn 99 – having been urged for several years to watch this by my son, I finally started to watch it, with him, in the days following Martyn’s death. Very funny, very well written.

Community (Season 6) –  They got six seasons, but no sign of a movie… Continued to be super-meta and bonkers to the very end.

Good Girls – this one was my daughter’s contribution to post-bereavement watching. Whilst some (many) plot developments could be seen coming, the script and the performances make it immensely enjoyable.

Modern Family (Season 9) – it tends to re-tread the same ground repeatedly, but Phil makes me laugh such a lot that all is forgiven.

Parks & Recreation (Season 1) – I gather that Season 1 is simply an intro to when it gets really good, from Season 2 onwards. I intend to check that out soon. Meantime, we rather enjoyed Season 1.

What We Do in the Shadows – mad, silly, rude and gory

This Way Up – Aisling Bea’s comedy has so much heart. It’s full of people who aren’t horrible, just human and who make mistakes and hurt people without particularly intending to, and people who are trying really hard to cope with life. It made me laugh and cry.

Ted Lasso (Season 1) – a warm hug of a show. But not as cosy as that suggests, it doesn’t shy away from unhappiness and unkindness, and Ted isn’t a Forrest Gump, as I feared, but a very intelligent person who’s found a way of living and relating to people that merely seems simple. I loved it. And it’s about football.

Films we watched, huddled together on the sofa, in the aftermath: Bridesmaids, Hitch, Lovebirds, Murder Mystery. All enjoyable and silly, and just what we needed.

Reality/Quiz

Strictly Come Dancing – I had never watched this before. I can’t imagine how I could have sold it to Martyn, TBH. But I am now so invested, having wept my way through Rose’s silent dance, and John and Johannes talking about coming out, and Rhys’s Dad and AJ’s Mum… The dancing is so joyous and life affirming, and for all the clichés about ‘journeys’ we are watching people grow and flourish in a most extraordinary way. I’m hooked.

The Great British Bake-off – another bit of joyful telly. These people are competing against one another, but they seem to care about each other too. As the final three waited for the announcement of the winner, they were all holding hands, which was rather sweet. Baking, like dancing, is something I cannot comprehend or imagine ever doing, even incompetently, so it does all feel rather like magic.

Taskmaster – it does depend a bit on who the competitors are, but generally it’s engaging, funny, and bonkers.

Music

Get Back – this was glorious. I remember watching the Let it Be documentary, way way back, with Martyn, and the selection of material made everything seem sour, and sad. Seeing all these hours of footage, what comes across is the joy that they still found in making music, the laughter, the sweet moments, the magical process where we hear the song we know emerging from what seemed to be an aimless jam. There’s friction, sure, but ‘you know, lads, the band!’ as Paul says. And I’ve always loved that rooftop performance. Favourite moments – the ‘Get Back’ moment, John and Yoko waltzing to ‘I Me Mine’, Heather mimicking Yoko’s primal screamy vocals, Paul saying, very early on, that it would be really cool if the gig were to be interrupted by the cops. Paul mocking the idea that future generations might think the band broke up because Yoko sat on an amp. Mal. And Glyn. Everyone trying to stall the cops as they head for the roof. I know some people (probably quite a few) found its running time too long. All I can say is that it never outstayed its welcome for me. My apprenticeship was 47 years of listening to musicians jamming, trying things out, allowing tunes to emerge. Listening as it happened, and then listening to recordings of it happening… So every minute of this was tinged with sadness, that Martyn wasn’t there to watch it with me, and memories of listening to this music with him, and listening to him making his own music.

Summer of Soul (or – when the revolution could not be televised) – 2021 documentary, mixing footage from the 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival with commentary from some of the artists, and some members of the audience. It features performances from (amongst others), Mahalia Jackson, Staple Singers, Sly & the Family Stone, Nina Simone, Gladys Knight & the Pips, Stevie Wonder… An extraordinary record of an extraordinary event.

Hamilton – a real treat. The conceit (rapping about 18th century American history) is audacious, and carried off with such flair and style. As the Guardian reviewer put it, it offers us ‘history de-wigged’, it captures ‘the fervour and excitement of revolution’, and celebrates the ways in which immigrants shaped America by casting almost entirely non-white performers. Stunning, and I will be re-watching this soon.  

Aretha Franklin – Amazing Grace – wonderful footage from the recording of the Amazing Grace album, Aretha paying her gospel dues. That voice, oh lord. And she sang her mash-up of ‘You’ve got a friend’ with ‘Precious Lord’.

Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool – brilliant doc on one of my absolute favourite musicians, a most remarkable and fascinating man with an extraordinary life.

Once were Brothers – another excellent doc, this one on The Band, largely through Robbie Robertson’s reminiscences, which are very articulate and thoughtful.

Delia Derbyshire: The Myths and the Legendary Tapes – a labour of love from writer/director and actor Caroline Catz, exploring the life and work of this innovator in electronic music, someone who undoubtedly should be better known.

West Side Story – Spielberg was never going to diss the original movie, so my fear was that it might be just a bit too reverential, rather than that he would ditch any of the things that are most vital about it. The music, the lyrics, the choreography, are all there, and any changes are contextual – the setting for some of the big dance numbers, who some of the songs are given to, for example. There’s additional dialogue which allows for a fleshing out of the social issues touched upon in ‘Gee Officer Krupke’, and the context of a neighbourhood that’s not only disputed territory between the rival gangs, but scheduled for demolition and future gentrification. Lovely as Natalie Wood was, I much prefer Rachel Zegler, and whilst Ariana Debose can’t eclipse Rita Moreno (who could), she matches the vibrancy of that performance and, of course, we get Moreno anyway, in an added role as Doc’s widow. She gets to sing ‘Somewhere’, which broke me, that song, in her still lovely but more fragile voice, reflecting her own attempts to find a place for her and the man she loved. I loved it, and I cried, quite a lot, as I always do, but I also smiled in sheer delight, as I always do.

Carousel/South Pacific – first time for the former, the second (my Mum’s favourite musical) I have watched many, many times. I really disliked Carousel. Most of the music didn’t really move me (apart from it’s one really big wonderful tune), and I loathed Billy Bigelow, at best a charmless yob, at worst a violent bully, and so I hated him being given another chance to show Julie that he loved her (by hitting their daughter, apparently – but it’s OK because it felt like a kiss…). This stuff is seriously toxic and that one really big wonderful tune cannot redeem it. South Pacific, on the other hand, only a couple of years later from the same team, is wonderful. Now I know they dodge the issue of racial prejudice by having lovely Joe Cable die before he can keep his promise to Liat, but that song, ‘You Have to be Carefully Taught’ is brilliant, and pretty radical. Just to have Nellie and Joe acknowledging the irrationality of their prejudices, and their feeling of helplessness in the face of those irrational responses, is pretty radical. The tunes are great, the performances are great, and the use of coloured filters (a lot more extreme than the director had intended) is still startling and strange.

A mixed bag of musical biogs on Billie, Ella, Fela Kuti and Betty Davis (this last one rather undermined by the dearth of performance footage)

It’s impossible to think back over this year without constantly labelling the memories as ‘before’ or ‘after’. There are things I’d never have watched if he’d still been here, and things it seems awful that he missed because he would have loved them (Get Back, the latest series of Endeavour, to name but two). I don’t want to get maudlin but melancholy is inevitable. We had 44 years of watching telly on the sofa together, and we shared a love for Doctor Who for the last 47 years (starting with Pertwee, ending with Whitaker – I go on alone to the next regeneration). This time next year that before/after feeling will be less acute. I will have a whole 12 months of watching on my own, with family, with friends. I’ll still wish he was here though.

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2020 On Screen

Normally, there’s quite a bit about cinema in this review of the year on screen. This year was, obviously, different, and whilst I could have watched more films on screen via DVD, for a host of reasons I found refuge in telly, in short bursts of drama rather than longer forms. My concentration was shot in the first part of the year, with the loss of my brother, and the onset of the pandemic.

I got used to the latter, to the extent that those of us who weren’t directly affected got used to it (finding new routines involving lots of local walks and evenings in, as we had the luxury of no work or financial pressures, plenty of space indoors and out, and no one close to us being ill).

As for the former, grieving isn’t a linear process, one can seem to be fine and then walk into a wall that wasn’t there before, one can seem to be fine and then be ambushed by a memory, an image, a word. So there are things we’ve avoided watching because, well, why deliberately provoke it? The exception to this was Little Women, of which more below, which we saw at the cinema very early in 2020, in full knowledge of how it would foreshadow the inevitable loss that we were facing.

The Small Screen

Please note: this reflects what we have watched in 2020, and thus includes old stuff that is circling eternally on ITV 3 and Drama, stuff from 2019 that was still sitting on our BT Vision Box as the year turned, as well as this year’s TV. This is the telly that has diverted, amused, intrigued, enlightened, moved and informed us during 2020. I’ve missed out the things that we started watching and then decided life was simply too short to waste time on, but, whilst I don’t normally spend much time talking about things I haven’t liked, there are a few dishonourable mentions here, mainly for things that I expected to like and in the end was very cross with. I’ve linked to some reviews, where they are not too spoilery, but as always, caveat lector.

You know you’ve watched too many episodes of Midsomer Murders when the ITV 3 intro causes eruptions of rage every single time it invites us to go to the ‘infamous village of Midsomer where only one thing’s for certain’. As any fule no, Midsomer is not a village but a county. I mean, that body count would be just too improbable in just one village, wouldn’t it? Another clue is when you overhear someone saying ‘Oh, hello, what are you doing here?’ and turn abruptly, expecting imminent violence with a pitchfork or perhaps a giant cheese. It’s very silly, and the writing is variable but at its best, it knows exactly what it’s doing, and there are lots of little in-jokes about the bloodthirsty nature of these picturesque villages (like the incoming DS from the Met who is shocked at the carnage). We’ve re-watched all the Nettles series, which allows us to marvel every episode at how Joyce manages to get involved in every single case, because she is a member of every single committee, book club, art class, choir, am dram group, and so forth in the entire county. I have my suspicions that she is actually the mastermind behind the whole murderous business.

There were lots more weighty contenders, of course. Foreign language offerings included Nordic crime from Twin, Before We Die, Wisting, and Below the Surface, and best of all The Bridge, whose first two series we had missed when they were first shown (I know! What were we thinking?) and enjoyed very much, whilst concluding that the plot, especially perhaps in Season 2, was a little too complex for its own good and if one was being picky one might mention a couple of possible holes. But one won’t, and one is now re-watching series 3 and 4. Saga is, of course, a most wonderful creation.

Wallander is obviously Nordic but Young Wallander is in English. It’s an oddity – if we hadn’t been alerted before watching we would have been most bemused by the contemporary setting. There are nods to ‘our’ Wallander (the father who paints the same scene over and over again, the girlfriend called Mona) but clearly this is not the equivalent of Endeavour. It was enjoyable, if not unmissable. Van der Valk is a remake of a 70s series which we never watched – again it’s in English but set in Amsterdam. The setting was, I fear, the best thing about it. The plots were ludicrously baroque, the motivation of the culprits unconvincing, the script clichéd – and if anyone wonders how I dare level such criticisms when I’ve just admitted to a fondness for Midsomer Murders, MM has a lightness, a touch of humour, that VdV lacked.

The latest series of Spiral had us shouting at the telly, primarily at Laure and Gilou. Excellent stuff – our deeply flawed heroes may be infuriating but they’re convincing and won our hearts a long while back, and the plot was gripping and tense. The other French offering was The Other Mother, based on Michel Bussi’s novel Maman a tort, which was also excellent – the plot was complex but just the right side of incomprehensible. The Team was a multinational European offering – it’s series 2 but with no characters in common from series 1, just the concept of a multinational team pulled together from different EU nations to solve a crime.

We also watched the movie Goldstone, which is linked to the Australian crime series Murder Road, whose new series is awaiting our attention, and the much lighter-weight but diverting Harrow, about an Aussie pathologist, the sort of pathologist who investigates crime, not the sort that gets called in when there’s a corpse and says ‘I’ll know more when I get him on the slab’ and then eats his sandwiches whilst foraging about in someone’s insides – see MM, Vera, et al. They know their place, unlike Harrow.

We visited the frozen landscapes of Canada for another dark and dour series of Cardinal, and back to the US for The Sinner (this was series 2, with only Bill Pullman in common with series 1).  A much more unusual setting for Baghdad Central – an excellent, tautly plotted thriller with powerful performances by Waleed Zuaiter and Bertie Carvel. And we visited the past – Vienna in the 1900s -for Vienna Blood. The protagonists are an ‘unlikely duo’ of a brash young medical student and disciple of Freud, and a battered older cop, the production is very Sherlockian, and altogether it was slightly daft, but enjoyable, with a darker undercurrent running through it, of the endemic antisemitism of the time and the place, whose consequences we know too well.

Back in the UK, we enjoyed the Agatha Christie dramatization of The Pale Horse, with Rufus Sewell; Guilt, a blackly comic take on murder, with the always engaging Mark Bonnar; and McDonald & Dodds, with Jason Watkins, another lighter weight crime series, with good enough performances and writing to be worth catching when it returns. We watched Judge John Deed, which turned into a montage of 90s conspiracy theories about phone masts and the like, with improbable legal scenarios, and a protagonist whose compulsion to seduce every attractive woman he meets (key witness, fellow barrister, ex-wife, his therapist) becomes tiresome and frankly a bit creepy. Actually, all of the characters are intensely annoying, and one watched it mainly to be infuriated with it. Series 2 of Bancroft was just as ludicrous as the first.  

The really good stuff:

Strike, Series 4 – charismatic leads, great plots, thoroughly enjoyable series, weaving the personal narratives of Strike and Robin in with the investigations very skilfully.

Hidden, Series 2 – Welsh noir – very, very noir – with an excellent female lead. As with the first series, the ending brings a very compromised and uncomfortable resolution.

Deadwater Fell – dark psychological drama, excellent cast, very unsettling.  

Elizabeth is Missing – based on the book by Emma Healey. The lead character, Maud, has dementia, so when she insists that her friend Elizabeth is missing, no one takes her very seriously. Her recent memories keep getting mixed up with much older ones, of a much older disappearance. Glenda Jackson’s performance is absolutely mesmerisingly brilliant.

Dublin Murders – based on the first two books of the Tana French series. The plots are interwoven in a way that perhaps didn’t totally work, but the quality of the writing and the performances carried the day.

Endeavour – the penultimate series, apparently. The quality of the writing continues to be an absolute joy. The interplay between Morse, Strange, Thursday and Bright is so well played, often very emotionally powerful even though (or perhaps all the more because) none of them speak easily about their feelings. 

Vera – Brenda Blethyn is a fine-looking woman, and so somewhat at odds with the descriptions in the novels, but she gets the character beautifully. The way in which the relationship with Joe’s replacement as DS is developed is convincing and touching (I particularly like the way he kneels to help her put on her crime scene shoe covers. As an older woman with dodgy knees I can so identify).

The Capture – about surveillance and deep fake images and whether or not we can trust what we see… A nicely paranoid atmosphere and a gradual blurring of the lines between right and wrong

Giri/Haji – my pick of the year, without a doubt. That it didn’t get commissioned for a second season speaks to a certain cowardice amongst the decision makers, but as the Independent’s reviewer says, it is pretty much faultless as it stands, so maybe it doesn’t need a sequel. This was stylish, often audacious, bloody, darkly humorous – really striking and memorable telly. Applause to all concerned.

Homeland returned for the last time. The final series was an encapsulation of everything that we’ve seen over its whole run, very consciously a drawing together of many of the threads from all the previous series, satisfying without being oversimplified. As a jazz fan I was delighted that Carrie’s love of jazz, rather forgotten about in recent series, was foregrounded in the final scenes, as the wonderful Kamasi Washington performed live on stage.

Deutschland 86 took us to the brink, everything in place for the collapse of the GDR and the destruction of the Wall. I hope we get one more series, to take these characters, and us, through those momentous events.

We would not normally have thought of watching The New Pope. The trailer, rather bafflingly, showed Jude Law in tiny (very tiny) Speedos walking along a beach, as women gazed, and fainted away, on either side. Hmmm. However, we knew that my brother had a moment on screen as one of the Cardinals gathered at a funeral, and we had to watch – and watch with full attention – to ensure we didn’t miss him. I’m glad we did – it was bonkers but beautiful. (So we got to see both of my brothers on screen this year, strangely enough, our Aidan in purple robes in The New Pope, and our Greg in an orange trackie at a football match over 40 years ago – see below.)

Philharmonia was bonkers too – the orchestral setting was unusual, and it was enjoyable, even if one didn’t ever believe a word of it.

The Accident was grim, and some of the plotting was a little bit careless, I thought – or maybe setting up for a second series where other things come to light? No idea. I just felt that – without giving too much away – a character was introduced who played a key role in events, but that role never seemed to be properly explored, and the images at the very end seemed, almost, to suggest that the truth was something other than the established official version. I may have imagined it! There were some powerful performances, from Sarah Lancashire and Joanna Scanlan in particular.

The Plot against America, adapted by David Simon (The Wire) from Philip Roth’s alt history, in which Charles Lindbergh, running on an America First ticket, wins the 1940 US election rather than FDR. It is, of course, incredibly topical (more so than the novel, which came out in 2004, when the events of 2016 could not have been imagined). It was powerful, incredibly tense, and subtle when it needed to be. Its final moments – and this is where it differed significantly from the book – with the central characters tensely awaiting the outcome of another election, hoping and fearing the outcome, kept coming back into my mind in November.

We’re saving up Small Axe. Looking forward so much to this.

Let’s draw a veil over the awful Batwoman. Wooden acting, clunky scripts, a plot that made no sense at all.

Devs sci fi that’s about ideas, as much as it’s about tech. There was no predicting where this one was heading, or where it ended up. Whether it entirely made sense, I’m not sure, but it was, as the Guardian reviewer put it, a ‘deep, dark, wild ride’.

Dracula – yet another take on the Stoker original, this one was about as faithful as any of the others, but it really went for it, with conviction and style. As Lucy Mangan in the Guardian put it, ‘It’s a proper job […] And that means proper scares. No spoilers, but the one in the [redacted] when the [redacted] suddenly [redacted] had me clinging to the ceiling. I advise parental supervision at all times. My dad was annoyed at having to come over, but needs must when the devil calls and starts emanating from your screen.’

His Dark Materials As always with a screen version of a book/series that I have loved with a real passion, I was anxious that the adaptation would mess it up. I needn’t have worried. The performances are grand, the visuals stunning, and it’s powerful stuff. We loved it, and are looking forward to Series 2.

Star Trek: Discovery we’re through the wormhole now, and it’s Trek, Jim, but not as we know it. This allows for real character development, though if I were to be picky I’d ask them to rein in the reaction shots of awe and wonderment and so forth. No idea where we’re headed but we’re now liberated from the need to be consistent with the existing series, which is pretty exciting, if you’re a long-term Trekker.

Star Trek: Picard it’s a good time to be into Trek! Not only Discovery, but Picard too. My love for Jean-Luc is undimmed and he carried this very effectively. Some lovely shout-backs to NG, but its not pure nostalgia for the fans.

The Walking Dead – The first part of the season ended prematurely due to the pandemic – we only got the finale in October and now have to wait till next year for the second half. The series has come back strongly from quite a long slump, and whilst some of the regular gripes (apocalyptic battles which end up with only one peripheral character being killed, regular characters behaving with untypical stupidity to bring about some new peril, that sort of thing) are ever present, it’s back to being essential after a period where it was a mere duty watch.

Doctor Who – This year’s series was controversial amongst some Whovians, for seeming to change some of what we thought we knew about the Doctor’s origins. But did it? After all, our main source was the Master, who, as we know, lies… We will see. The Doctor did make a few appearances later in the year from her Judoon cell, to give us hopeful and inspiring messages about coping with lockdown isolation, which, I have to admit, brought a tear to my eye. She’ll be back on 1 January 2021, and let’s hope that the Tardis is a harbinger of hope for a better year ahead.

Some films watched on TV: Jurassic Park: Fallen Kingdom was perfect New Year’s Day fare. And the general stress of lockdown drew us to Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. The first I rather enjoyed – the script was just clever enough, with some neat historical references buried in amongst the improbable action. The second, well, once we had chuckled at the Bennett girls practising martial arts and strapping lethal weapons to their stockinged legs, it was slightly thin stuff. Last but not least in this category, the only superhero movie we watched this year, very unusually, was Deadpool, which was, to say the least, different… Very funny, very rude.

We’re saving up Agents of Shield (the last ever series) and Series 2 of His Dark Materials – some things to look forward to early in 2021.

We caught up with Modern Family, which we’d abandoned at the end of series 4, for no good reason. I found myself laughing loud and often. The characters don’t develop, not really, but when the writing and the performances are this good, there’s plenty of comic mileage to be had. We discovered Friday Night Dinner (only series 1 so far) which also made us laugh a lot.

The Good Place managed to be both very, very funny and profound. It made full use of its fantasy license, regularly wrongfooting us in ways that made us shout out something along the lines of WTF, and its final couple of episodes reduced me to real sobs, not just ‘something in my eye’ but full-on weeping. And yet, right up to the end, it was very, very funny too. A fabulous achievement.

We enjoyed the ebullient and charismatic Stuart Copeland in a couple of docs, his own Adventures in Music series, and his episode of Guitar, Drums, Bass (Lenny Kaye and Tina Weymouth represented the other instruments). We enjoyed the Lennon at 80 radio programme hosted by Sean Lennon, and a documentary about John and Yoko, Above Us Only Sky. The film Matanga/Maya/MIA was fascinating, though it left me somewhat dubious about her, not so much musically as politically. K T Tunstall presented an absolutely charming documentary about Ivor Cutler. A number of classical documentaries featured members of the remarkable Kanneh-Mason family: an Imagine programme, This House is Full of Music, Young, Gifted and Classical, focusing on cellist Sheku Kanneh-Mason, who cropped up too in the excellent Black Classical Music, fronted by Lenny Henry and Suzie Klein, which introduced us to a number of composers we had not heard of previously. This last programme tied in with Black History Month, as did Gospel According to Mica, in which the singer explored the history of the genre through six songs, taking us from slavery days through the civil rights struggle to our own time. Soul America charted some of the same history, though taking a much narrower slice of history, broadly from the transmutation of gospel into soul, through the socially conscious sounds of the late 60s, to the sexual healing of the ’70s. Music, Money & Madness was a fascinating look at the background to Rainbow Bridge, the incoherent mess of a film that features Hendrix’s excellent 1970 gig in Maui, Hawaii.

Afua Hirsch presented African Renaissance (on African art), and co-presented with Samuel L Jackson the outstanding and at times overwhelming Enslaved. David Olusoga’s Africa Turns a Page put the spotlight on African writers, some familiar, others less so (see my books blog for some contemporary African fiction).

I Am Not Your Negro is an extraordinary film. It’s a 2016 documentary directed by Raoul Peck, based on an unfinished manuscript by James Baldwin. It explores the history of racism in the US through Baldwin’s reminiscences of civil rights leaders Medgar Evers, Malcolm X and Martin Luther King. Baldwin was one of the African American writers who I discovered in my teens and who inspired and challenged me. The film left me feeling quite shaken, such is the power of the images and Baldwin’s words.

France 1939: One Last Summer – A poignant compilation of home movies from France, from the summer of 1939. Impossible to see even the most carefree moments without the foreshadowing of what was to happen.

Confronting Holocaust Denial with David Baddiel was thoughtful, intelligent and impassioned.

On a somewhat (much) lighter note, Rome Unpacked was a lovely corollary to our recent visit, reminding us of how much we had yet to see (looking forward to our next trip, in the after-times…). I also fell somewhat (quite a bit) in love with Giorgio Locatelli. One quibble however – they visited the Jewish Ghetto and talked about the history of medieval antisemitism, without mentioning that the Ghetto’s inhabitants were deported and murdered by the Nazis in 1943. It’s not that I wanted the programme to delve into that in any detail – it just needed a one sentence coda to that section of the programme, rather than leaving the impression that murderous anti-semitism was something from the distant past.

A documentary about Nottingham Forest’s 1970s European Cup successes turned out to be a much more emotional experience than I’d been anticipating, when I caught sight of my lovely kid brother, who died in February, on one of the clips. He’d been a ball-boy at the first-round match against Liverpool in our 1979 Euro cup campaign, and was caught on camera at the end, clapping the team off the pitch and then punching the air in celebration. I sobbed for quite some time after that.

The Big Screen

2020 cinema began shortly after New Year, with Little Women. I knew what was coming, of course, having known the books for most of my life, but it didn’t stop Beth’s death being devastating, as I knew how soon I would be losing my little brother. I have the DVD but will need to brace myself before rewatching, particularly the bits where… well, if you’ve seen it, or any of the previous versions or read the book, you won’t need me to spell out the parts of the film which will break me on the rewatch. In fact, I won’t even say any more now, just refer you to Rick Burin’s review. Hell, it broke him, and as he says, ‘I’m northern and into football and stuff, but I just kept crying’.

And then a two-film day in mid-March, watching Celine Sciamma’s Girlhood (second time round for me) with Liz at the Showroom, and then in the afternoon Sciamma’s newest film, Portrait of a Lady on Fire, with Martyn. I loved both films, I found Girlhood just as powerful as I had the first time, with several moments that are firmly lodged in my mind, and Portrait definitely requires a re-watch. I wrote about both films for this year’s International Women’s Day blog but I’m going to send you to read Rick Burin again, as he reviews all of Sciamma’s films and much better than I can.

Note that the films I did see in 2020 totally kicked the Bechdel test‘s ass.

And that was it. No more cinema – they did reopen, of course, for a while, but as we have been super-cautious throughout the pandemic, we did not take advantage (I renewed my Showroom membership, as a gesture of support).

Can’t talk about cinema in 2020 without noting the tragically early death of Chadwick Boseman. I only knew him as Black Panther but that role alone was enough to imprint him on my consciousness – it was a performance of grace and power, as well as huge cultural significance. Will look out for chances to see Boseman’s other movies.

Previous years’ cultural highlights have included Opera North at Leeds Grand Theatre. Obviously, since March, the pandemic has put paid to that. In fact, I’d had to drop out before that – I could not attend the three productions in January/February as my brother’s condition worsened and I knew both that I needed to be available to see him whenever I could, and that I really couldn’t commit to producing a review in a reasonable timescale, or at all. I had no idea when I made that decision that my stint as an opera reviewer would have come to an end for the foreseeable future. I loved doing the reviews, and had a marvellous time seeing superb productions of works from Monteverdi to Britten and all points in between.

The move to on-line cultural activities, devastating as it was to the future of live performance, offered some delights. The Sheffield Classical Music Festival in May gave us access to some joyous and uplifting chamber music, as members of Ensemble 360 filmed performances in their gardens and living rooms. It was fabulous, even if it made us miss Music in the Round in the Crucible Studio even more.

Other online treats were Ian Dunt talking about being a liberal, David Olusoga talking about Black and British in Black History Month, Kit de Waal talking about My Name is Leon (all three talks part of Sheffield’s annual Off the Shelf festival), Sarah Churchwell and Bonnie Greer talking about the US election outcome (part of the national Being Human festival) – and two chances to hear and see someone who was an idol during my teenage years, the awesome and inspiring Angela Davis, first in her own South Bank lecture, and then in conversation with Jackie Kay (as part of Manchester Literary Festival). I might, theoretically, have got to the Off the Shelf events in normal circs. But I wouldn’t have made it to the South Bank, or the University of London, or even across the Pennines to Manchester.

But I long to get back to live chamber music and theatre at the Crucible, live opera at Leeds Grand Theatre, arty French movies at the Showroom and blockbusters at the IMAX… We’ll get there, thanks to the vaccine(s). And it will be so very lovely when we do. I may, just possibly, weep.

Screens, in general, have been our lifeline in the plague times. Not just the entertainment and enlightenment of what our television channels offer, but the Zoom/Messenger/Facetime link ups with the people we love, who we can’t be with. It’s not the same, obviously, and in the early days at least it made me feel, briefly, sadder once we’d waved goodbye and blown kisses to the small figures on our laptop screens. But our isolation has been less stark, less absolute, and at best those virtual encounters have made us feel hope, made us feel loved, given us the chance to support each other.

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#BlackLivesMatter #Wakanda Forever

I’ve been trying to write this piece for weeks now. Hesitating because, after all, why would anyone need to read the thoughts of a white, middle-aged, middle-class English woman about something she has never experienced, and could never experience? But nonetheless this post has been buzzing around in my head for so long, and I know that the only way to stop that is to write.

And, this morning, I woke as so many did to the awful news that Chadwick Boseman, the actor best known as the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s Black Panther, has died at only 43 years old. I remembered how I felt in the cinema watching that film, how exhilarating it was to see the large screen filled with powerful, beautiful black people, in control of their destinies, white people largely irrelevant. And how I thought of what that must have felt like to people of colour, those who’ve seen movie after movie where they are absent, or peripheral, or victimised, or expendable. And those who have been waiting, whether they knew it or not, for a super hero who resembled them.

Some disclaimers. I’m not trying to prove anything here, not trying to get approval or validation. I’m talking, primarily, to other white people, about how we can learn and listen, how we can recognise and take account of our privilege, and know when to speak and when to STFU.  If I get something wrong feel free to tell me (but I’m not asking you to educate me, that’s my responsibility). I’m a work in progress, still, at 63. I expect and hope that I’ll still be learning, expanding my understanding, for the rest of my life, whilst my faculties are intact at least.

So, where am I from? No, where am I really from? My upbringing was very different to that of anyone I went to school with in Chatham or Mansfield in the late 60s/early to mid 70s, very different to that of my cousins and other wider family. It shaped my response to the racial politics of the UK in that era and beyond. It influenced what I read, and what I watched.

When I was three years old, we (my parents, myself and my two younger siblings) flew to a new life in Ghana, West Africa. Of course we were massively privileged in our lives there, in the immediate aftermath of independence, living on the University campus in Kumasi, where my father taught Physics and Maths. We were ‘expats’, not immigrants. No one expected us to integrate, to assimilate, to adopt Ghanaian dress or diet, or to learn the language. My school teachers were all British, my classmates included Ghanaian children, but also British, American, Canadian. (When we moved to Northern Nigeria, there were no African children in my class. Not one.)

That upbringing did not give me a means to understand what it is to be black in Britain. My white skin gave me privilege as a member of an ethnic minority in West Africa as it does here where it makes me part of the norm. But those childhood experiences did broaden my horizons, expand my consciousness and my sympathies, and gave me a wealth of experiences against which to measure the attitudes and assumptions I encountered back home.

I think first of all, of the Door of No Return. Cape Coast and Elmina Castles, two of the forts on the Ghanaian coast which were the point of departure for the slaves, the last place they saw before they were crammed into the holds of the ships for the Atlantic crossing. I don’t recall in detail what my parents told me about their history when we visited, but I still recall the place, and the association with horror, the chill, even in the humid heat of Ghana.

I remember the first time I heard a white person say something casually racist. I remember not so much shock or offence, but bafflement. It seemed to me so incomprehensibly stupid, to generalise in that way. It made no sense to me then, that first time, in Africa, any more than it did later, in Chatham or Mansfield. I never knew how to respond – where do you begin, with something so incomprehensibly stupid?

My memories of Ghana are vivid, warm, happy. I know I can lay no claim to Ghana as part of my heritage – I lived there for just five – albeit formative – years. When I use my Ashanti day name, Abena (girl born on a Tuesday) as part of my Facebook name, when I use an image of kente cloth as the background to my Twitter profile, am I, as I hope and intend, honouring a part of my life for which I am immensely and profoundly grateful, or am I appropriating something to which I have no right? But those things (and my support for the Ghana national football team, and my love of West African music) feel like part of me.

Our parents taught us well. At an early age (before we came home to England, so before I was ten years old) I knew that whilst other ‘expats’ were planning, in light of the rapidly deteriorating situation in Nigeria, to move to jobs in Rhodesia or South Africa, my parents never would. And they taught me why. (Their passionate opposition to those regimes would probably have made them persona non grata anyway.)

I knew that Martin Luther King was an important man, a good man, who represented the values that my parents were teaching us, and they had taught me well enough that I knew by the time I was ten years old that his murder was a terrible thing, a huge loss to the world.

As a teenager, I was drawn to the American civil rights struggles, and I read everything I could get hold of. I read MLK, Angela Davis, George Jackson, James Baldwin, Malcolm X.

But one of the most powerful books for me was by a white man. John Howard Griffin, a white journalist, disguised his skin with a combination of medication (anti-vitiligo treatment), tanning and cosmetics, and went South. He was motivated by the recognition that the only way to know what it was like to be black in the USA, was to become black in the USA. Of course it wasn’t the same – he had an exit strategy (although he was subjected to threats and a near-fatal attack when the book was published and his identity revealed), and he had experienced most of his life up to the point of his self-transformation as a white man with all the privileges that entails. But his account is viscerally compelling. What stayed with me from my first reading was the ‘hate stare’ – something I would never experience, almost certainly never witness.

Alex Haley’s Roots (whether it is fiction or history, or a blending of the two) gave me a black epic, a story that spanned centuries and continents, that took up the story of the people who had been herded through the Door of No Return, and did not flinch from the brutality of slavery and of the injustice that persisted for so long after.

I almost never talked about my interest in the politics of race, not to my schoolfriends. I feared discovering that their response would make friendship problematic, or impossible. And, to be honest, as a teenager desperate to fit in, I feared being regarded as nerdy or odd. We talked about pop music, telly and boys, not about politics. And the strange culture of the times meant that one tribe listened to virtually no black music (though they allowed a free pass to Hendrix), whilst another listened to mainly African-American and Caribbean music, whilst being associated with prejudice against people of South Asian origin, and with the nascent National Front. It was dangerous territory, even though in my grammar school there was, throughout my years there, just one non-white girl (from India, as I recall), and in the Mansfield area at the time, the largest immigrant community was Polish. I kept reading though, just didn’t talk about it.

I read a number of the Heinemann African Writers series from my parents’ bookshelves (Chinua Achebe, Buchi Emecheta, Bessie Head, Ngugi wa Thiongo, Camara Laye, Wole Soyinka). I read Alan Paton’s Cry the Beloved Country, and Trevor Hudleston’s Naught for your Comfort. I read E R Braithwaite’s Please Sir (a whole heck of a lot less soppy than the film) and Paid Servant.

And those books, and world events, led me on to Steve Biko and Nelson Mandela, to Maya Angelou and Toni Morrison, to Kwame Anthony Appiah, David Dabydeen and more recently to Reni Eddo Lodge and David Olusoga.

Meantime, the sound of Ghana, the highlife music that had wafted over from the student residences to our home on campus, was part of me. I was prepped to respond to black American music, to Motown and Stax and Philly, and to ska and reggae. And then I heard Osibisa, and that started a journey of exploration of African music – music from all over that continent, but finding the sounds of Mali and Senegal took hold of me in a way that no other music did. I still feel that way.

For all this, I realised part way through this year, as I nerdily compiled my list of what I’d read, that it was disappointingly, dispiritingly, shamefully white. Somehow I’d kept on gravitating (during what, to be fair, has been a brutal year, full of loss and sadness) towards familiar voices, familiar histories, familiar settings. That this realisation coincided with the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter protests following the murder of George Floyd is no coincidence at all.

However well I have been taught, however widely I have read and listened, my life can still be told (if one skips those few years in ‘darkest Africa’, as my grandfather always referred to it) without reference to my race. My journey through school and work, marriage and parenthood, has been untroubled by the colour of my skin. I have experienced prejudice, sure, as a woman in the workplace, and as a girl and woman in public spaces. I can extrapolate from those experiences, but it’s not enough, nowhere near.

So I need to read black writers, to hear those voices, those experiences and to let them expand my ideas, my sympathies, my knowledge. It’s powerful, and sometimes uncomfortable. But it’s a process that started when I was 5 or 6 years old, looking out of the Door of No Return.

Black lives matter. Of course they do. As the wonderful Dolly Parton put it, “…of course Black lives matter. Do we think our little white asses are the only ones that matter? No. My words will make no real difference, I have few illusions on that front. But perhaps I will prompt someone to read more widely, to read more stuff by people who don’t look like they do, to risk being made uncomfortable, being challenged to rethink their assumptions, their bias, the language they use. Perhaps.

And would I take the knee? It’s a beautiful gesture, one of honour and respect. I wasn’t sure at first why it moved me so much, till I saw the photos of MLK and remembered. Yes, I’d take the knee, in a heartbeat. It might take a bit longer for me to get up again though…

My 2020 Reading List (so far):

  • Chimamanda Adichie – Dear Ijeowole
  • Arvind Adiga – The White Tiger
  • Jeffrey Boakye – Black: Listed
  • NoViolet Bulawayo – We Need New Names
  • Angela Davis – Women, Race and Class
  • Nicole Dennis Benn – Patsy
  • Jason Diakite – A Drop of Midnight
  • Bernardine Evaristo – Girl, Woman, Other
  • Yaa Gyasi – Homegoing
  • Mohsin Hamid – Exit West
  • Afua Hirsch – Brit(ish)
  • Meena Kandasamy – When I Hit You
  • Andrea Levy – The Long Song
  • Attica Locke – Pleasantville
  • Kenan Malik – From Fatwa to Jihad
  • Yvonne Adhimabo Owuor – Dust
  • Laksmi Pamuntjiak – The Birdwoman’s Palate
  • Johnny Pitts – Afropean
  • Sunjeev Sahota – The Year of the Runaways
  • Kamila Shamsie – Home Fire
  • Margot Lee Shetterley – Hidden Figures
  • Nikesh Shukla (ed.) – The Good Immigrant
  • Ron Stallworth – Black Klansman
  • Colson Whitehead – The Nickel Boys

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Choices and Chances: International Women’s Day, 2020

#IWD2020 #EachforEqual

An equal world is an enabled world. How will you help forge a gender equal world?
Celebrate women’s achievement. Raise awareness against bias. Take action for equality.

A number of things I’ve read or watched just recently have made me ponder the importance of choice in relation to equality. How women across the centuries have been deprived of real choices – and still are.

Re-reading Hilary Mantel’s Bring up the Bodies, in prep for the third volume of her Cromwell trilogy, I thought about the two queens, Katherine and Anne. Powerful women, women with influence, women with resources. And yet – their power, their influence, their resources were entirely dependent upon men: fathers, husbands and, in a different sense, sons. Their fortunes changed on the whim of a man, and there was nothing they could do about it: rejected, humiliated, and in Anne’s case, killed.

Fast forward to the late eighteenth century and the women portrayed in Celine Sciamma’s wonderful new film, Portrait of a Lady on Fire. Héloise is wealthy and privileged. But she has only two choices – the convent or a socially and economically useful marriage. Her elder sister had taken her own life rather than face the latter, and so Héloise must leave the convent and be marketed to potential suitors. There’s a lot to say about this film, about how it doesn’t just subvert the male gaze, it totally obliterates it. We see the women (and there are only a few men on screen, all briefly, all unnamed) through women’s eyes. Heloise seeing herself in the portraits that Marianne paints of her. Marianne’s self-portrait. Marianne surreptitiously glancing at Héloise as she must try to fix her features in mind, in order to paint her without asking her to pose. The two gazing at each other as they realise their mutual desire. Marianne turning, at Heloise’s request, for one last look as she must say goodbye. This is a film I will want to watch and re-watch. (And I was kind of chuffed to read that Sciamma is a huge fan of Wonder Woman – an actual auteur who doesn’t despise it as a superhero blockbuster but recognises its real power and importance.)

Arnold Bennett’s Hilda Lessways is the subject of volume 2 of his Clayhanger trilogy, written in the early years of the twentieth century but set in the 1880s. What’s remarkable is the way in which we are, throughout the novel, in Hilda’s thoughts, seeing everything through her eyes, knowing only what she knows, as she rages against the restrictions of her life, struggles to understand her own emotions, to understand what choices she has, and to face the implications of the choices she has made. She is independent in spirit, she makes her own living for a while (the only female shorthand writer in the Five Towns), but she’s trapped nonetheless. It’s a vivid and moving portrait.

The young woman at the heart of Celine Sciamma’s 2015 film, Girlhood (Bande de filles) rages too. Marieme hasn’t got good enough grades to get to high school so the only option is college for vocational studies. That would mean leaving home though, which her controlling older brother would be unlikely to permit, and which would leave her younger sisters vulnerable. Her attempt to escape her brother’s control simply put her in the power of another man, and her boyfriend offers only a different kind of trap – marriage and babies.

The power in this film lies in its contrasts. We first meet Marieme as she plays American football, an Amazon, powerful in her armour. The girls head for home, all talking at once, laughing and loud and proud. But as they approach home, we see the young men waiting for them, sentinels, and the girls fall silent. We see Marieme taking on the maternal role with her younger sisters, we see her cowed by her brother’s bullying, we see her talking to a young man, all lowered eyes and fleeting glances. Girls together can be joyous (dancing to Rihanna, in shoplifted dresses, looking glamorous just for themselves rather than for a man, high on cheap booze and weed) or threatening (showdowns, mainly verbal but spilling into violence) with other groups of girls, extorting money with threats. These shifts are jarring, troubling. They show us what these young women could be (for good or ill), and what stops them from being what they could be.

So my 2020 heroes are Celine Scammia and Adele Haenel (for Portrait of a Lady on Fire, and for protest at the Césars), Greta Gerwig for making a book that I’ve read dozens of times fresh and powerful.

Elizabeth Warren for persisting. The Doctor, Ada Lovelace, Noor Inayat Khan and Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.

And those we’ve lost: Rosalind Walter (Rosie the Riveter), Heather Couper (probably the first female scientist of whom I was aware), Kathryn Cartwright (blogger, ambassador for the Anthony Nolan Trust), Katherine Johnson (NASA mathematician).

And two young women who could change the world, and who clearly terrify those who really don’t want it to change…

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2010-2019 – the best bits… and some of the other bits

I honestly hadn’t thought about it being the end of a decade until I saw the first few ‘best of’ lists appearing.

On a personal level, it’s been quite momentous. We both retired, midway through the decade, a decision which we haven’t regretted for a nano-second. I finished my (second) undergrad degree before I left work, and then went straight on to study for a PhD, which I hope to complete early in the next decade. Each of our children graduated twice (four different Universities, three different cities) and found permanent, rewarding employment.

I lost a good friend and colleague to cancer and helped to set up and then chair a charity as his legacy, raising around £30k since 2013 for cancer charities, through a fabulous fundraising event, the 24 Hour Inspire, and other ventures.

I started this blog in January 2012, and whilst I’ve had periods of writer’s block this year it’s given me a way of being creative, having spent most of my life denying that I am or could be. I was also offered the chance to go to the opera for free with a friend, and write reviews of the productions, which has been an absolute delight.

We put lots of things on hold for a while as my mother in law’s dementia worsened, and her care needs became urgent. She died last Christmas. My brother was diagnosed with terminal cancer in 2018 and the chemo he’s been on is no longer working. We go into the New Year with heavy hearts.  

Politically it’s been a nightmarish decade. The Tories back in power, first in coalition, then in their own right, albeit for a while as a minority government. The EU Referendum and the government’s complete inability to approach the negotiations in good faith and with understanding and intelligence. Obama replaced in the White House by someone so utterly unfit for any kind of high office that I still wonder whether we slipped into some parallel universe at about the halfway point of the decade, after which nothing made any kind of sense. 

Should have realised, when I woke one morning in early January 2016 to learn that Bowie had left us. Should have known it was a portent.

So since looking forward is a mug’s game at present, I’ll look back, to the books, films and TV programmes that have sustained me during the last ten years.

Books of the Decade

Some of these titles feature in my already published Books of the Year and Books of the Century lists, as one might expect. I’ll indicate those that do, or that are reviewed in my 60 Books challenge series, so as not to repeat myself too much (and have time to also do the full panoply of decade and year lists that I am somehow compelled to do).

Ben Aaronovitch – Moon over Soho (Books of the Century)

Ferdinand Addis – Rome: The Eternal City was a birthday gift from the Roman branch of our family, following a recent visit to the city, which had made me realise just how fragmented and unreliable my sense of its history was. A hotch-potch of Shakespeare, the New Testament, Robert Graves and Robert Harris, I really needed to get a grip on it all. Addis’s tome is just the thing. It’s very entertainingly written, it takes key events and explains how they came to pass and what followed, and it takes us from Romulus & Remus to Federico Fellini.

Chimamanda Adichie – Americanah.  Her Half of a Yellow Sun is one of the top three books of the century (according to me). Adichie’s protagonist here goes off to University in the States, and we follow her struggles to acclimatise and to understand what race means in America, as well as her feelings for her lover back in Lagos. It’s often very funny, and always very sharp and perceptive. The Guardian said that ‘It is ostensibly a love story – the tale of childhood sweethearts at school in Nigeria whose lives take different paths when they seek their fortunes in America and England – but it is also a brilliant dissection of modern attitudes to race, spanning three continents and touching on issues of identity, loss and loneliness.’

Viv Albertine – Clothes, Clothes, Clothes. Music, Music, Music. Boys, Boys, Boys (Books of the Century)

Naomi Alderman – The Power (Books of the Century)

Lynne Alexander – The Sister illuminates a life lived in the shadows: Alice James was sister to the more famous Henry and William, prevented by ill health and the constraints of Victorian society from expressing her own creativity. Alexander doesn’t hammer this message home simplistically but brings Alice to sympathetic life. ‘A furious volcano of thoughts and desires trapped within a carapace of pain, Alice is a feminist cipher but, more movingly, a beautifully drawn and memorable individual, brave, vulnerable and fiercely intelligent.’ (The Guardian)

Darran Anderson – Imaginary Cities is an exuberant and wildly eclectic tour of cities in Western civilisation drawing on books, films, architecture, myth, visual arts. Totally my cup of tea.  Described as ‘an exhaustive, engaging book’ which generates ‘sheer joy for the curious reader’. It certainly did for this curious reader.

Anne Applebaum – Iron Curtain: The Crushing of Eastern Europe 1944-56 is a fascinating study of Poland, the GDR and Hungary after the end of the Second World War. The Telegraph said that she takes ‘a dense and complex subject, replete with communist acronyms and impenetrable jargon, and make it not only informative but enjoyable – and even occasionally witty. In that respect alone, it is a true masterpiece’. (Books of the Year)

Kate Atkinson – Life after Life (Books of the Century)

Margaret Atwood – The Testaments is the long-awaited sequel to The Handmaid’s Tale. It does take the action forward – we get to see some of what happened after that book’s final page, but perhaps more significantly, we see Gilead from perspectives other than that of June/Offred, and so we understand more about how Gilead works, and about, in particular the role of the Aunts.  It’s completely compelling, and very disturbing. (Books of the Year)

Julian Barnes – The Levels of Life (Books of the Century)

Linda Buckley-Archer – The Many Lives of John Stone. Buckley-Archer began her literary career with the YA Timequake trilogy. This is beautifully written, interweaving a vivid historical narrative with the present day. There’s no time travel, or supernatural/paranormal elements – it just uses a hypothetical genetic characteristic as the basis for the plot. It’s engaging, gripping and ultimately very moving.

James Lee Burke – Robicheaux (Books of the Century)

Jane Casey – Cruel Acts (Books of the Year, and Century)

Jonathan Coe – Middle England. I picked The Rotter’s Club for my books of the century, and this is the third part of that trilogy. This made me laugh a lot. Made me weep a bit. Reminded me of music I love (Hatfield & the North, Vaughan Williams) and of lyrics that always move me: Billy Bragg’s ‘Between the Wars’. (Not mentioned in Coe’s book, but I kept on thinking of the line ‘Sweet moderation, heart of our nation’). It’s rueful and wistful and, I think, hopeful… (Books of the Year)

Suzanne Collins – Mockingjay is the final part of The Hunger Games trilogy. Another series aimed at a young adult readership, this one is pretty dark (not that YA reading should be sugar-coated or cosy, it should challenge and disrupt if it’s doing its job). Vivid and exciting, with a splendid hero in Katniss Everdene, and resists too neat an ending – after so much tragedy and trauma, that would have jarred horribly.

Stevie Davies – Awakening (Books of the Century)

Edmund de Waal – Hare with the Amber Eyes (Books of the Century)

Emma Donoghue – Room (Books of the Century)

Helen Dunmore – Birdcage Walk. Sadly the last novel from Dunmore, who died of cancer in 2018. I picked The Siege as one of my Books of the Century, and read The Betrayal as part of my 60 books challenge – her novels are very varied but always beautifully and powerfully written. The Guardian describes her writing as ‘hazardously human’. It’s particularly poignant to note that the fictional Julia Fawkes ‘lies buried with the inscription “Her words remain our inheritance.” Julia may have disappeared from the record, but Dunmore’s words remain.

Sue Eckstein – Interpreters (Books of the Century)

Reni Eddo-Lodge – Why I’m no longer talking to White People about Race (Books of the Century)

Esi Edugyan – Half-Blood Blues (Books of the Century)

Elif Shafak – Three Daughters of Eve (60 Books)

Lara Feigel – The Bitter Taste of Victory (Books of the Century)

Will Ferguson – 419 (Books of the Century)

Gillian Flynn – Gone Girl (Books of the Century)

Karen Joy Fowler – We are all Completely Beside Ourselves is particularly difficult to write about without revealing a vital twist, so I will avoid any discussion of the plot. Read it anyway, just avoid the reviews (so no link to the Guardian, which called It an ‘achingly funny, deeply serious heart-breaker … a moral comedy to shout from the rooftops’.) (Books of the Year)

Tana French – Broken Harbour (Books of the Year and Century)

Esther Freud – Mr Mac and Me reminded me of Helen Dunmore’s Zennor in Darkness. A writer/artist (D H Lawrence for Dunmore, Charles Rennie Mackintosh for Freud) finds themselves in a rural community at the start of the First World War, and is regarded with suspicion by the locals due to their unconventional behaviour). Mackintosh is seen through the eyes of a fourteen year old boy, intoxicated by the glimpses of a wider world, of art and beauty, that Mackintosh brings.

Jo Furniss – All the Little Children (60 Books)

Robert Galbraith – The Cuckoo’s Calling (Books of the Century)

Patrick Gale – Notes from an Exhibition (Books of the Century)

Alan Garner – Boneland (Books of the Century)

Nicci Gerrard – What Dementia Teaches us about Love (Books of the Century)

Valentina Giambanco – The Gift of Darkness (Books of the Century)

Elizabeth Gilbert – The Signature of all Things.  I wouldn’t have expected to enjoy Elizabeth Gilbert’s writing, having a deep-rooted suspicion of the whole Eat, Pray, Love thing. But I really did. Gilbert’s fictional protagonist, Alma Whittaker, is brilliant, lonely, not pretty. She’s a scientist, a naturalist, in the wrong era (she’s born in 1800) to have any chance of fulfilling her ambitions, or her desires. She’s remarkable, utterly believable, her openness and imagination endearing and fascinating.  It’s an ambitious novel, that fully succeeds in its ambitions.

Robert Gildea – Fighters in the Shadows: A New History of the French Resistance. Gildea brings out of the shadows the Resistance that was marginalised for decades – women, Communists, foreigners. It’s much more complicated than the myth that de Gaulle propagated at the Liberation, and more interesting.  

Lesley Glaister – The Squeeze (Books of the Century)

David Grann – Killers of the Flower Moon (Books of the Century)

Jarlath Gregory – The Organised Criminal (60 Books)

Elly Griffiths – The Stone Circle (Books of the Year and Century)

Thomas Harding – The House by the Lake (Books of the Year and Century)

Jane Harper – The Lost Man (Books of the Year and Century)

Robert Harris – An Officer and a Spy (Books of the Century)

John Harvey – Darkness, Darkness – the final part of the series of novels featuring Nottingham detective Charlie Resnick

Noah Hawley – Before the Fall is an excellent thriller, about truth and lies, fame and reality, from the writer of the TV version of Fargo

Emma Healey – Elizabeth is Missing (Books of the Century)

Sarah Helm – If this is a Woman (Books of the Century)

Sarah Hilary – Never be Broken (Books of the Year and Century)

Susan Hill – The Comforts of Home is the most recent (that I’ve read) of the Simon Serrailler series. (Books of the Year. The Various Haunts of Men was one of my Books of the Century).

Christopher Hitchen – Mortality (Books of the Century)

Andrew Michael Hurley – The Loney (Books of the Century)

Jessica Frances Kane – The Report is absolutely fascinating. At the heart of the novel is a little known wartime tragedy, in which no bombs fell, but 173 civilians died. I had never heard about the Bethnal Green disaster when I came across this book, and it set off many trains of thought.

Philip Kerr – Prague Fatale.  Kerr’s series of novels featuring Berlin detective Bernie Gunther blend crime fiction with World War II European history. They span from the immediate pre-war period to the long aftermath of the war, and Bernie has been part of it all. He’s a survivor, who’s done bad things and seen worse ones, but somehow retained his humanity, a dry humour, and at least some of his integrity.

Stephen King – The Institute. King’s latest references a number of his previous novels (Firestarter, The Shining, Carrie…) but does something a bit different with these themes. In a way, he’s setting two version of America against each other: the corporate world of the Institute, ‘the cogs and wheels of bureaucratic evil, run by ‘a bunch of middle-management automatons’, against small-town America (the good and the bad thereof). It’s proper cancel all other activities including meals and sleep till the last page King. (Books of the Year)

Otto Dov Kulka – Landscapes of the Metropolis of Death (Books of the Century)

John le Carre – Pigeon Tunnel (60 Books)

Harper Lee – Go Set a Watchman (Books of the Century)

Laura Lipmann – Sunburn (Books of the Year and Century)

Kenan Malik – Quest for a Moral Compass (Books of the Century)

Hilary Mantel – Bring up the Bodies. We’re still eagerly awaiting the third part of Mantel’s Cromwell trilogy. (Wolf Hall was one of my Books of the Century).

Helen Mathers – Patron Saint of Prostitutes is a fascinating biography of Josephine Butler, the remarkable Victorian campaigner who challenged all of the conventions about how a pious and respectable woman should behave by working with prostitutes, and challenging publicly the way in which they were brutalised and abused in the name of public morals.

Jon McGregor – Reservoir 13 (Books of the Century)

Dervla McTiernan – The Ruin (Books of the Century)

Livi Michael – Succession (Books of the Century)

Denise Mina – The Long Drop (Books of the Century)

Wendy Mitchell – Someone I Used to Know is an account by someone diagnosed with early onset dementia. She’s frank and fearless about explaining how the condition affects her as it progresses, but uses her energies to campaign for awareness and understanding, and for practical support. Her blog is funny, sad and enlightening, and it is so rare and refreshing to hear about dementia from someone who is actually experiencing it.

Caitlin Moran – How to be a Woman (Books of the Century)

Sarah Moss – Bodies of Light (Books of the Year and Century)

Thomas Mullen – Darktown (Books of the Century)

Tiffany Murray – Diamond Star Halo rocks. It’s set on a fictionalised version of the residential recording facility at Rockfield Farm, Murray’s childhood home, itself the locus of much rock music mythology. It’s gloriously funny, but has plenty of heart, and the music is part of every line of the text – I could hear the soundtrack in my head, even the music that was imagined and not real. And I often think of protagonist Halo’s night-time prayer, a litany of rock stars gone forever…

Maggie O’Farrell – The Hand that First Held Mine (Books of the Century)

Chinelo Okparanta – Under the Udala Trees movingly explores the Biafran war, sexuality and love across the ethnic and religious divides, class and status in Nigerian society.

David Olusoga – Black and British (Books of the Century)

Philip Pullman – La Belle Sauvage (The Book of Dust, Book 1). I won’t say too much about this as I don’t want to risk giving any spoilers. But it is sheer delight to be back in this world and to re-experience the sheer power, the subtlety, the glorious imagination of Pullman’s writing.

Ian Rankin – In a House of Lies, the most recent Rebus. He’s retired now, and battling with COPD and the lifestyle changes that has forced on him. Does any of that stop him getting involved in the solving of a crime, and getting under the feet of the cops? Have you met Rebus? (Books of the Year)

Danny Rhodes – Fan is about football and football culture, about supporting Nottingham Forest, and, inexorably, about Hillsborough. It’s powerful and harrowing.

Sally Rooney – Normal People (Books of the Year and Century)

Liz Rosenberg – Indigo Hill (Books of the Year and Century)

Donal Ryan – From a Low and Quiet Sea (Books of the Year and Century)

Philippe Sands – East-West Street (Books of the Century)

Noo Saro-wiwa – Looking for Transwonderland (Books of the Century)

Phil Scraton – Hillsborough: The Truth. When Scraton published this 2016 edition of his authoritative, rigorous, and personal account of the disaster, he would not have imagined the news that broke in December 2019, that Duckenfield had been found not guilty. Again, the families who have endured so much – lies, betrayal, vilification, dismissal – for so long, are in pain, and again, it seems no one will be held accountable for 96 entirely avoidable deaths.

Anne Sebba – Les Parisiennes (Books of the Century)

Taiye Selasi – Ghana Must Go (Books of the Century)

Lynn Shepherd – Tom All-Alone’s (Books of the Century)

Anita Shreve – The Stars are Fire was Shreve’s last book. Her protagonist, Grace, has a life that is limited by societal convention and tight family budgets but she thinks it’s fine, mostly, until she loses almost everything, in the terrible fires that swept Maine in 1947. The disaster is described with visceral power and horror, but Shreve is just as interested in its aftermath, as Grace tries to find a way to start again.

Rebecca Skloot – The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks (Books of the Century)

Patti Smith – M Train.  I picked Just Kids for my Books of the Century, but could just as well have chosen this. With the humour, self-deprecation and warmth that characterised her earlier memoir, she talks about her marriage to Fred ‘Sonic’ Smith, of the series of terrible losses that she experienced, of her music. And, unexpectedly, of her obsession with Midsomer Murders.

Timothy Snyder – Bloodlands: Europe between Hitler and Stalin. I’ve spent a lot of time studying the Occupation of France, and I’m well versed in its horrors. I know better than to minimise the brutality – but the majority of the murders of French citizens and those who were in France during the Occupation took place not on French soil but in what Snyder calls the Bloodlands. ‘Both tyrants identified this luckless strip of Europe as the place where, above all, they must impose their will or see their gigantic visions falter… The figures are so huge and so awful that grief could grow numb. But Snyder, who is a noble writer as well as a great researcher, knows that. He asks us not to think in those round numbers. …  The Nazi and Soviet regimes turned people into numbers. “It is for us as humanists to turn the numbers back into people.”

Rebecca Solnit – Hope in the Dark (Books of the Century)

Cath Staincliffe – The Girl in the Green Dress. I was torn when I did the list of books of the century, and chose The Silence between Breaths. So I’m making recompense now. What Staincliffe does so well is to focus not just on the crime (though there is a strong police procedural element to this one, unlike some of her stand-alone novels) but on the ripples created by the crime, on the families of victim and perpetrators, on the police officers themselves. This one will break your heart.

Susie Steiner – Missing, Presumed (Books of the Century)

Adrian Tempany – And the Sun Shines Now (Books of the Century)

Rose Tremain – The Gustav Sonata (Books of the Century)

Elizabeth Wein – Code Name Verity is a brilliant and moving YA novel about young women undercover in Occupied France in WWII. It’s so very cleverly structured – things that don’t seem to quite make sense suddenly become clear in the second half, when the narrator changes. The plot is utterly gripping and the ending made me weep. A lot.

Louise Welsh – A Lovely Way to Burn. This is part 1 of the Plague Times trilogy, a dystopian future where plague wipes out large swathes of the population. We’ve been here, or hereabouts, before of course – Day of the Triffids, The Walking Dead, 28 Days Later, The Stand… Welsh makes it work though, she gives weight to the moral issues as well as giving us suspense, action, horror, and everything we’d expect from the post-apocalypse.

Colson Whitehead – Underground Railroad (Books of the Century)

Jeanette Winterson – Why be Happy when you could be Normal? (Books of the Century)

Farewell to those writers listed above who we lost during the decade: Helen Dunmore, Sue Eckstein, Philip Kerr, Harper Lee and Anita Shreve. Thank you all.

Films of the Decade

I’ve highlighted in bold my favourite films in each of these categories. Many of them I’ve written about already elsewhere, so again I’m not attempting to review or even comment on each one.  

Scifi and Superheroes: A brilliant decade both for the superhero genre and – IMHO – Marvel specifically, and for other sci-fi franchises: Star Trek had Beyond, and Star Wars fielded The Last Jedi and Rogue One. My pick from the MCU: Avengers Assemble, Captain America: Civil War, Black Panther, Captain Marvel, Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse, Guardians of the Galaxy I, Thor: Ragnarok. And outside this particular arc, from the X Men, the elegiac Logan. And though I don’t generally do DC, I have to have Wonder Woman.

Best of the bunch: Not dissing Endgame, but Assemble is when I fell in love with Marvel (and with Captain America, TBH). And Black Panther had a significance beyond its place in the Avengers story, and was exhilarating not just for people of colour in the audience, but for anyone who cares about seeing the rich diversity of humanity on screen, as heroes and as villains.

We had Inception and Interstellar, Her and Ex Machina, Looper and Mad Max: Fury Road, The Martian and Gravity, Monsters and Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, A Quiet Place and Source Code.

And the two best SF films of the decade: Annihilation, and Arrival. Visually stunning, intelligent sci-fi. Of the two, Arrival, with its emotionally devastating twist, and its fascinating exploration of language, edges it.

Thrills, Crimes & Heists: Baby Driver and Drive, Bad Times at the El Royale, Skyfall, Gone Girl and Widows. I’m torn on which to pick. With caveats, to do with the film’s failure to meet the low bar of the Bechdel test, I’d pick Baby Driver, which was beautifully described by Empire as: ‘not a film just set to music. But a film meticulously, ambitiously laid over the bones of carefully chosen tracks. It’s as close to a car-chase opera as you’ll ever see on screen.’ Even if the narrative arc (young man in debt to gangster does ‘one last job’ and finds out there’s no such thing) is traditional enough, the choreography, the seamless blend between diegetic and exegetic music, make it entirely original and massively enjoyable.

War: Anthropoid (the assassination of Heydrich), Childhood of a Leader (a more allegorical account of the birth of fascism), Lore (a German teenager in the aftermath of the war). And the best one: Dunkirk –  I was overwhelmed, by that intense focus, by the score which built and built the tension until it was almost unbearable (and the use of the Elgar Nimrod as the first of the little ships appeared reduced me, predictably enough, to sobs), and by the non-linear structure which forced one to concentrate, to hold those strands together even as the direction teased them apart.

French films: Michael Haneke’s Amour,  Xavier Giannoli’s  Marguerite (a French take on the Florence Foster Jenkins story), Olivier Assayas’s Double Vies (Non-Fiction), Mia Hansen-Løve’s L’Avenir (Things to Come), Denis Villeneuve’s Incendies. Varda by Agnes and Bertrand Tavernier’s Journey through French Cinema. My favourites: Celine Sciamma’s Bande de Filles (so much in this movie, but just watch that opening sequence, with the young women leaving hockey match and returning to their homes in the banlieues, and a gorgeous sequence as they dance in shoplifted dresses to Rihanna’s ‘Diamonds’) , Abderrahmane Sissako’s Timbuktu (a stunning Malian film, beautiful and shattering, but with unexpected moments of humour too).

Horror: Cabin in the Woods, What we do in the Shadows. Get Out and Us. A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, The Girl with all the Gifts. Under the Skin.

History/Biography: First Man and Hidden Figures, Lincoln, Selma and BlackKKlansman. Love and Mercy (biopic of Brian Wilson).

Comedy: Booksmart and Lady Bird. Death of Stalin and Four Lions. Hunt for the Wilderpeople and Moonrise Kingdom. Sorry to Bother You. World’s End and Submarine. The Muppets, and Paddington.

Animation: Inside Out, Tangled, Toy Story 3.

Adaptations: Macbeth (Fassbender and Cotillard) and Joss Whedon’s Much Ado about Nothing.

Documentaries: I Believe in Miracles (Johnny Owen’s account of the glory years at Nottingham Forest), Night will Fall and They Shall Not Grow Old, Nine Muses, They will have to Kill us First.

Drama: Captain Fantastic and Leave No Trace. Dallas Buyers Club and Pride. Grand Budapest Hotel and The Great Beauty. The Farewell and Short-term 12. Twentieth-century Women and Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri. Winter’s Bone and Room. We Need to Talk about Kevin and If Beale Street Could Talk. Life, above all and Cold War.

Music: La la Land

Farewell and thank you to Marvel man Stan Lee, to Emmanuelle Riva (star of Haneke’s Amour, and long before that, of Hiroshima mon amour), to Agnes Varda, and to Michael Bond, creator of Paddington.

TV of the Decade

Subtitled Crime/Thrillers: Dicte, Follow the Money, Greyzone, Rough Justice, Spiral, The Team, Trapped, Wallander, Witnesses, Beck, Before we Die, Blue Eyes, The Bridge, Deutschland 83/86. Plus the bilingual English/Welsh productions, Hidden and Hinterland. Best of the bunch – Spiral (a master-class in French profanity, and a compelling if infuriating bunch of characters, dealing with grim and gritty crime on the streets of Paris.

Brit Crime/Thrillers: Endeavour, The Fall, Foyle’s War, Happy Valley, , Informer, Killing Eve, Kiri, Lewis, Line of Duty, Little Drummer Girl, London Spy, The Lost Honour of Christopher Jenkins, Midsomer Murders, The Missing, No Offence, River, Scott and Bailey, Sherlock, Shetland, Southcliffe, Strike, Suspects, The Suspicions of Mr Whicher, Unforgotten, Vera, Wallander, Bodyguard, Broadchurch, DCI Banks, Black Earth Rising, Ashes to Ashes. Best of the bunch – Endeavour for beautiful, subtle writing for all the lead characters; Killing Eve for deranged, delicious wickedness, Line of Duty for twisty turny plotting, and stunning, forget-to-breathe set pieces in the interview room, Unforgotten for the warmth and humanity of the two leads, the clever subtlety of the writing, and the emotional complexity of cold case investigation.

Other Crime/Thrillers: Fargo, Homeland, Mystery Road, Southland, The Americans. Best of the bunch – Fargo. Bonkers, funny and very very dark.

Sci-fi/Fantasy: Agent Carter, Agents of Shield, The Walking Dead, Doctor Who, The Fades, Utopia, The Handmaid’s Tale, Humans, Misfits, Orphan Black, The Returned, Star Trek: Discovery, True Blood, Being Human. Best of the bunch – Agents of Shield for daring plotting and terrific writing. Doctor Who for bringing us not only Doctors 11, 12 and 13, but the War Doctor and the reappearance of the very first Doctor, River Song and a whole raft of new companions, new and old foes… And Who, as always, through this decade, has given us a hero who thinks, who cares, who values kindness above all things, who isn’t human but somehow reflects back to us the best of humanity. Orphan Black for Tatiana Maslany’s virtuoso performance as most of the key characters. The Returned for a spooky, troubling, atmospheric take on the notion of the revenant.

Comedy: Big Bang Theory, Community, Derry Girls, Doc Martin, Fleabag, The Good Place, How I Met Your Mother, Modern Family, Raised by Wolves, The Thick of It, W1A, Young Sheldon. Best of the bunch – Derry Girls

History/Biography: A Very English Scandal, Brexit: An Uncivil War, Cilla, Gentleman Jack, Mo, Poldark, Resistance, To Walk Invisible, Wolf Hall, Summer of Rockets, World on Fire, War and Peace. A Very English Scandal was a startlingly funny and somehow touching take on a scandal that I recall from my early teenage years (the newspaper coverage at the time was highly educational!). I wrote about Gentleman Jack in my review of the year. And Resistance was a powerful – and historically sound, whilst using the device of a fictional central character who could link to all of the key resistance groups and events – account of Occupied Paris, a subject that I find endlessly fascinating.

Drama: The Casual Vacancy, Desperate Housewives, Doctor Foster, Spin, This is England, Treme, Years and Years. This is England (the TV series) was so powerful that I haven’t rewatched it. It broke me – particularly TiE88. Treme was a joy – it drew its characters with so much love and understanding, that we ended up loving them too. The cast was brilliant, as was the music (it’s the only drama of the decade that has led us to seek out a whole raft of CDs). And Years and Years was timely, moving and let us hope not overly prescient…

Music

This was the decade that I really got into opera. Having the chance to see (and latterly to review) Opera North productions at Leeds Grand Theatre and Town Hall has been not only a delight but an education. I’ve seen productions from across the centuries, and not only has the singing been glorious, but the stagings have been wonderfully inventive. You can find my reviews of the titles in bold elsewhere on this site.

  • Cole Porter’s Kiss me Kate
  • Purcell’s Dido & Aeneas
  • Poulenc’s La Voix humaine
  • Puccini’s La Boheme, Gianni Schicchi, Il Tabarro, Suor Angelica, Tosca, Madama Butterfly and Turandot
  • Britten’s Death in Venice and Peter Grimes
  • Ravel’s L’Enfant et ses sortileges
  • Verdi’s Aida and Un ballo in Maschero
  • Falla’s La Vida Breva
  • Gilbert & Sullivan’s Trial by Jury
  • Bernstein’s Trouble in Tahiti
  • Giordano’s Andrea Chenier
  • Kevin Puts’s Silent Night
  • Handel’s Giulio Cesare
  • Martinu’s The Greek Passion
  • Strauss’s Salome
  • Wagner’s The Flying Dutchman
  • Lehar’s The Merry Widow
  • Janacek’s Jenufa, Osud and Katya Kabanaova
  • Monteverdi’s The Coronation of Poppeia
  • Mozart’s Don Giovanni and The Magic Flute
  • Rimsky Korsakov’s The Snow Maiden
  • Leoncavallo’s I Pagliacci
  • Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana

As always, we have listened to a LOT of music. And over the course of the decade, more and more of it has been jazz. That’s partly thanks to Radio 3, with Jazz Record Requests and J to Z bringing us artists we weren’t familiar with along with lots of stuff from long-term favourites (Monk, Miles, Mingus et al). We’ve seen some live jazz too, from the Kofi-Barnes Aggregation, Arnie Somogyi’s Scenes from the City, and the Stan Tracey Octet.

For several years of this decade, Tramlines was where we went, one weekend a year, for live music. Music in pubs and clubs, in parks, in the art gallery, the Cathedral… It’s changed now, and it’s more a conventional music festival, which doesn’t suit us as well (though it’s a great success and a huge achievement for the city) – what we loved was just wandering around the city centre, from one venue to another, catching bands we’d never heard of as well as a few big names. It was bloody brilliant. And it was where we first saw Songhoy Blues, one of my bands of the decade. These young Malian musicians made me dance, made me smile like an idiot, made me cry a little, when Aliou Toure spoke about his country, his continent, and what the music stood for – peace, love, unity.  

We’re privileged in Sheffield too to have Music in the Round – chamber music in the Crucible Studio from the house band, Ensemble 360, and a host of guest musicians. As the name suggests, the audience sits around the performers, so you’re guaranteed a good view, and it gives an intimate feel to the event. I could not begin to list the concerts we’ve attended there. Not just classical either – some of the jazz concerts referred to above were in the Crucible Studio, as was a wonderful gig from the Unthanks.

There have been other venues too – a remarkable performance of Terry Riley’s In C, in the Arts Tower paternoster lifts, and a programme of Reich, Adams, Zorn and others at the Leadmill, from the Ligeti Quartet.

So, another decade bites the dust. These have been some of the best bits. Love and thanks to all of the people who’ve shared these cultural delights with me, to all of the people who’ve created and performed these cultural delights for me, and to all of those who’ve passed on their own enthusiasms to me over the years.

Onwards. Whatever the next decade brings, let’s ensure it’s full of wonderful books, films, TV and music. Let’s hang on to the hope that things can and will get better…

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Film and TV – the best of 2019

As always, a couple of caveats. When I say ‘the best’, I mean the stuff I really really liked. So I’m quite comfortable with you disagreeing – if you didn’t like something I did, then probably the reverse is true, and that’s totally fine. Secondly, whilst I’ve tried to avoid spoilers in what follows, read on at your own peril if you haven’t seen the programme/film concerned.

Onwards!

Small Screen

We’ve watched crime dramas from around the world – Cardinal (Canada), Crimson Rivers, No Second Chance and Les Dames (France), Darkness (Those who Kill) and Follow the Money (Denmark), Greyzone (Denmark/Sweden), The River (Norway), Night and Day (Spain), Trapped (Iceland), The Team (Denmark/Netherlands/Germany/France), Harrow (Australia), Perception and The Sinner (USA). These are a mixed bag – not all these series are ones we will follow up if we get a chance – and you may note a significant omission. Spiral is currently airing but at the time of writing we haven’t yet watched it – it’s accumulating on the BT box and we’re saving it up as a treat once it’s complete. Those are the rules, sorry. We’re also part way through Deutschland 86 which is excellent, and so extraordinary to contemplate how the world and the mindset of the GDR were due to disintegrate so completely only three years later.

Obviously, there’s plenty of home-grown crime too.  Again, they’re a mixed bag – we weren’t entirely persuaded by Cheat, The Bay, Trust Me or The Widow, although they were entertaining enough. Baptiste, Innocent and Informer all had strong plots and strong casts, and emotional heft as well. The Le Carré adaptation, The Little Drummer Girl, was excellent too.

But in their own league were:

Endeavour – this keeps on getting better. The final episode was superb, and very moving. But for my money, the writing and acting in a brief scene between Bright (Anton Lesser) and Thursday (Roger Allam) was television at its finest. They were talking about the women they loved and feared (or knew) they were losing, how they had met them – and as each of them reminisced, it was as if they were each in their own world of memory, their words interweaving in a way that was somehow operatic (whilst being very understated, as befits the two characters).

Killing Eve season 2 was widely reckoned to be not up to the first. I can see some of that. But it was still quite deranged, deliciously wicked, and wickedly delicious. Whether a third season is a good idea, I don’t know, but will give it a go – I can’t think of any other series that has delivered the utterly unexpected quite so frequently. And Jodie Comer and Sandra Oh totally deserve all of the praise they’ve received for their performances.

Line of Duty was as nail-bitingly tense as ever. The elements are familiar now but the twists and turns of the plot are still gripping, and the performances excellent. I think before the next season, whenever that lands, we will have to re-watch the whole thing from the beginning, because it’s clearly all interconnected and I’m sure all the clues as to who is H (if indeed there is an H) are there somewhere… (and no, of course it isn’t Ted. Don’t be silly).

After all that murder, we do need the occasional laugh. I’m super-critical of comedy. I’ll give a new programme a try, but if it makes me wince more than it makes me laugh it doesn’t get a second chance. These passed the test.

This year saw the last Big Bang Theory – there was a point when I thought it had exhausted the comedic possibilities of the sitch and the central (male) characters, but bringing the women into the foreground gave it a new lease of life, and the final season was funny and often touching. Young Sheldon turned out to be excellent, the Cooper family drawn and performed with real affection and warmth.

We got to Fleabag rather late in the day but it was brilliant and funny. I was starting to find the glances to camera slightly irritating, when she changed the rules again in Season 2, with the hot priest noticing and asking her about it.  Weirdly, Gentleman Jack also used the same trick (no idea who was copying who).

Derry Girls was fabulous, and silly, but never let one quite forget the context. The events around the signing of the Good Friday Agreement and Bill Clinton’s visit to Derry may have been mere background as far as the teenagers were concerned, but were heavy with meaning, at a time when the GFA seemed under threat from a no-deal Brexit. (It may still be – only a fool would attempt to make predictions at present.)

And The Good Place took us into unexpected realms of moral philosophy whilst being very funny along the way. (We’ve just finished season 2.)

Of these, I’m going to pick Derry Girls as my fave. I love those girls (and boy). And Sister Michael, obvs.

Having welcomed the Thirteenth Doctor in 2018, we had just the one episode of Who to sustain us through 2019, a New Year’s Day special. But the trailer’s out now for the new series, ‘coming soon in 2020’ so will just have to be patient till then…

Agents of Shield continued to be complex and compelling drama. The latest season ended with another unexpected swerve. My only quibble – and it applies to the next programme too – is the tendency to appear to kill off a key and beloved character and then renege on death. It’s something that happens a lot in fantasy/sci fi, given that there are myriad ways in which death can be cheated or reversed, but just because you can, doesn’t mean you should… Cumulatively, it can mean that the next death doesn’t move you because you kind of know they’ll be back.

Star Trek Discovery is still excellent, even without Jason Isaacs. And the arrival of Captain Pike was most intriguing, given the tie in to original Trek as well as to the reboot movies. There are some great characters (I’m especially fond of Ensign Tilly). Too much death-reversing (see above). But thoroughly enjoyable, exciting, unexpected.

Walking Dead has come back from a real creative slump. The war with the Saviours just went on too long, and was over-reliant on our supposed fascination with Negan. But with a jump forward in time, we’ve now (in Series 10) got a really creepy and interesting new threat, which also weaponises the zombie hordes, who had come to seem almost irrelevant during the Saviour wars. The mid-season finale (or should that be semi-finale?) was a classic example of key character doing something utterly stupid that endangers nearly every other key character – but it did it well, and the other plot strands that were left as cliff-hangers were powerful too. I’m glad I didn’t give up on it.

Hard to pick one – but I’ll go with Shield.

Years and Years almost qualifies as sci-fi. This Russell T Davies near future dystopia deals extensively with tech and how it affects every detail of people’s lives. But its main focus is the rise of a cynical, populist politician, who through a mixture of public support and chicanery gains power and uses it to horrific effect. It being RTD, this is emotionally intense, often funny, always scary. 

Gentleman Jack stars the wonderful Suranne Jones as the early nineteenth-century lesbian diarist Anne Lister. She’s a fascinating character, particularly when one sees her through a contemporary  lens – her sexuality and determination to follow her own path in that regard, despite all of the obstacles that society places in her way on the one hand, her belief in the class system and the interests of the landowning aristocracy on the other. It’s a hugely entertaining account, which reminds us that it’s based on Anne’s encrypted diaries with her asides to camera (as noted above, very Fleabag, even to the extent of having Anne’s lover notice at one point and comment on it).

More conventional costume drama in Poldark which reached its final season, so no more lingering shots of Ross riding along the Cornish clifftops or Demelza gazing out to sea. There are more books in the Winston Graham series than have been televised, but I think they focus on the next generation, so who knows, there might be a Poldark 2 at some stage, but without Ross, Demelza, Dwight, Drake, evil George… Of course, it would still have the staggeringly beautiful north Cornish coast, and a fascinating and turbulent period in terms of national and social history to explore. 

World on Fire takes two families, one working-class, one wealthy, in late 1930s Manchester, and through the various family members and an American journalist explores the build-up to and the first couple of years of the war. That it relies on coincidence to connect these individuals with so many key events of the period (the fall of Poland, Dunkirk, the sinking of the Graf Spee, the Nazi euthaniasia programme, the occupation of Paris…) is absolutely fine. It’s a dramatic device, but it works. However. I’m happy to suspend disbelief at the aforementioned coincidences, but I cannot for the life of me see how Grzegorz gets from Gdansk to Warsaw to the Soviet occupied area of Poland and then within a period of less than nine months, without false papers, crosses most of Nazi Europe to turn up at Dunkirk and blag a place on a boat. It feels like there’s a whole story there to be told, if we’re to accept it at all, but instead we just jump from Soviet Poland to the beaches at Dunkirk. I would be less hard on this if I didn’t like the series so much in every other respect, but I shouted at the telly a couple of times over this strand of the narrative and no further explanation was forthcoming. Hmmm.

Stephen Poliakoff’s Summer of Rockets explores Cold War Britain, through the family of a Russian Jewish inventor recruited by MI5. It’s a fascinating portrayal of the world into which I was born (it’s set in 1958) but which I don’t recognise at all. Keeley Hawes is as splendid as ever, amongst a strong cast. Beautifully written and filmed, it’s thoroughly intriguing and quirky.

Best of these – another hard choice but I’ll go with Years and Years.

This year the children of 7 Up turned 63. We’ve been following them for decades now – they’re our contemporaries, and have been part of our lives for so long that we feel they’re almost like distant relations, who we only see every few years, but still kind of care about. I wonder how many of them will continue with the series (some of them said that their continued participation depends on Michael Apted, who’s now 71). Not only that, but whilst we have so far weathered divorces, the loss of parents, serious illness, and the death of one of the cohort, it can only get tougher from here on in. But for as long as they continue, we will continue to check in with them. Whatever the flaws in the original conception it’s been the most extraordinarily fascinating series.

One more doc, The Yorkshire Ripper Files. The last thing I watched about the Ripper, the drama-doc, This is Personal, gave me horrific nightmares. It ostensibly focused on the investigation but dramatized at least one attempted murder, and it took me right back to the fear that we lived with in Yorkshire whilst he was out there, killing women. I used to come back from work, always hoping that Karen from next door would be on my bus, and that we would scurry back from the bus stop to our road, feeling marginally safer for being together, but not feeling fully safe until we were home and the door shut and chained. And every night, those nightmares. The Yorkshire Ripper Files focused on how the investigation was derailed not just by the hoax tape but by the conventional attitudes of the time, fixating on the fact that some early victims were sex workers, and thus discounting attacks on women who were not, even when one of those women provided a chillingly accurate description of Sutcliffe. There was much I didn’t know, despite having followed the case so closely at the time, and it was a powerful reminder of how far, in many ways, we’ve come since the 70s, even if much still needs to change.

The Big Screen (even if seen on DVD on the small screen…)

It’s been a Marvellous year in the cinema. We had the arrival of the most powerful Avenger, and then the culmination of the Avengers saga with the mighty Endgame. I can’t be doing with the auteur-led dismissal of the superhero genre – my cinematic world is broad enough to encompass enigmatic French art films where nothing happens at considerable length AND epic battles between good and evil, packed with action (also at considerable length) but also with wit and heart. I’m contemplating a lengthier defence of the genre for this blog at some stage but for now, Scorsese, et al, leave it out. As well as the two major films, there were hugely enjoyable outings for Ant Man and the Wasp, and for Spiderman (both in the form of Tom Holland and in the animated Into the Spiderverse).

Leave No Trace was a beautiful, subtle piece of film-making, full of warmth and compassion, and faith in people. So many situations where one feared the worst but where people turned out to be decent, to be doing their best, to be kind. It hurt my heart, but it soothed it too. I know not everyone is ok, but perhaps sometimes we need to be reminded that most people are.

Bad Times at the El Royale was fairly bonkers, a lot of fun, with fantastic performances from Jeff Bridges and Cynthia Erivo in particular. The body count was pretty spectacular, but again, there were instances where people turned out to be better than one might have feared, rather than worse.

Erivo turned up again in Widows, one of a number of excellent films we saw this year with predominantly black casts. A heist movie wasn’t what I would have expected from Steve McQueen after Twelve Years a Slave, but as the Empire reviewer put it, ‘with the help of a staggering ensemble cast, Steve McQueen has made an intelligent, emotional thriller that contemplates contemporary American politics as confidently as it does blowing shit up.’

Spike Lee’s BlacKKKlansman got some stick for preaching to the choir, for making the contemporary parallels too obvious, and for making the KKK too stupid to be scary. I’m not sure that I agree. The final scene in which the lead players chuckle at their victory would be far too complacent and cheesy were it not for the news footage that follows, of Charlottesville and the contemporary equivalents of those bigots, still here, still spouting their hate. Lee’s film is often very funny and yes, a lot of the laughs come at the expense of the Klan.  But there’s plenty here – even without the bookending of the 1950s racist PSA and the Charlottesville fascist demos – to shock and disturb. Denzel’s son, John David Washington, and Adam Driver, are great in the leads.

We only saw Jordan Peele’s Get Out this year, but had managed to avoid having much idea of what happened, beyond the initial premise of a young black guy visiting his white girlfriend’s family for the first time. It builds brilliantly – initially things are just that bit awkward, a bit clumsy, but we could be in for social comedy at this stage. We see Chris (brilliantly played by Daniel Kaluuya) initially smiling along – his whole life he’s been encountering the many and varied forms of white racism, and he knows there’s no point in calling it out, not at first. But then it gets weirder, and wronger, and every time you think you know where we’re heading, you’re wrongfooted…

Peele’s most recent film, Us, is ‘a superb doppelganger satire of the American dream’, which, like Get Out, builds its terrors gradually and relentlessly, and pulls surprise after surprise. Its mythology is more opaque than that of Get Out, but it resonates very powerfully nonetheless, and the chills and shocks stay with you. Lupita Nyong’o is absolutely mesmerising.

Sorry to Bother You is madly satirical sci-fi. It may sound mundane: a young black telemarketer who adopts a white accent to succeed at his job. Swept into a corporate conspiracy, he must choose between profit and joining his activist friends to organise labour. But whilst there’s an absolutely dizzying swerve part way through that no one could possibly have predicted, there are elements right from the start that mark it out as not social realism.

If Beale Street could Talk is an adaptation of James Baldwin’s novel, and it’s so very beautiful. It’s even quietly optimistic and hopeful about humanity, despite everything that happens to the protagonists, because it portrays real and lasting romantic love, and real and powerful family love. The Guardian said: ‘Here is a film almost woozy with its own beauty and dignity, a film going transcendently high in the face of a racist world going low. It is a tribute of quiet passion extended to those lives fractured by injustice, and seems to serenely offer up their hard-won heroism to ward off bigotry’s corrosive evil’.

There have been fewer opportunities to watch French art-house movies of late, but we did see Agnes Varda’s final film, which gives us the delight of spending two hours in her very engaging company, through interviews and clips from her movies. Varda by Agnes should take one immediately to seeing all of her films. We also caught Non-Fiction, which is about as archetypal a French film as one could find – populated by writers, publishers, actors and their ilk, all of whom are sleeping with each other, when they’re not having intense debates about the future of literature in a digital age. It’s clever and funny and very enjoyable.

The Farewell was great too – very touching and funny, about families and about cultural differences. As it opens we see Billi, the protagonist, in New York, juggling cultures adeptly as she talks on her phone to her grandmother in China and telling her what she wants to hear. But the grandmother is diagnosed with terminal cancer, and the family follow tradition in not telling the patient of her prognosis, all gathering in China for a slightly rushed wedding in order to say their farewells without actually saying farewell…

Booksmart was a ridiculously funny and smart coming-of-age film, starring Beanie Feldstein (the best friend in Lady Bird) and Kathryn Dever. They carry the film completely – parents and potential boy or girlfriends are in a way peripheral.  The Guardian review said: ‘there are sequences that will feel familiar to anyone well-versed in high school comedies, but Wilde manages to grace her film with a distinctive aura all of its own. For one, romance and sex are relatively low down on the list for the girls while friendship, feminism and the pursuit of fun are of more importance, turning them from archetypes into fully fleshed, and flawed, young women.’ 

If I have to pick from these, my top three films would be Avengers: Endgame, If Beale Street could Talk, and Us.

Allons-y to 2020!

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2018 on screen – the best bits

These are my picks for films of 2018.  As usual, I’m resisting the urge to rank these, because they’re so diverse, but there is a top 3 which I will reveal shortly.

2018 had two huge additions to the Marvel cinematic universe. Black Panther has a significance that goes way beyond its contribution to the Avengers’ narrative arc. It gives us, all of us, a cast that is overwhelmingly made up of people of colour. Good guys and bad guys and somewhere in between. And not just guys – a whole lot of magnificent, clever women too. The film had, as one might have expected, a huge impact on black audiences. It’s not that they hadn’t ever seen people who look like them on screen, or even in superhero movies, but up front and centre? All over the damn screen? But it had an impact on all of us, I think. It didn’t make a big deal of what it was doing, it just got on with it, as this review in The Daily Telegraph, of all places, points out:

The film walks into the multiplex like it’s insane that it hasn’t been allowed in there all along. And it is.  For one thing, an entire subset of younger cinema-goers are only just about to experience the dizzy uplift of watching a title character in a superhero movie who looks like them under the costume. … Black Panther seems to overcome the genre’s long-standing neuroses around creating rounded, exciting roles for women by just getting on with it.



It worked on every level – there was much fighting, and things exploded, and there was moral ambiguity, and there was witty dialogue. And it was visually stunning – our first view of Wakanda was breathtaking.

And then there’s Avengers: Infinity War. Now normally I walk out of the cinema after a Marvel movie with a big daft smile on my face. Not this time. I was braced for deaths – I thought I knew what was coming and did a bit of advance grieving for my most-loved Avenger (Captain, oh, my Captain). What we got was much more confusing than that. We lost so many, but not the ones we expected to lose – in fact, many of those who we saw turn to dust were the ones we know absolutely can’t be gone. It’s fine that in fantasy death is not always the end – why bother creating a fantasy world if it has to obey all of the same rules as the real one? – but the risk is always that death loses its sting if we too often can just nod sagely to each other and say, ‘they’ll be back’. So, which of these deaths are going to stick, and which will be reversed? We have to wait until April 2019 to find out.

The Last Jedi features

a scene … that’s both revolutionary and dead simple: a circle of women, soldiers and warriors all, … handily discussing how they’re going to tackle their latest military offensive. While Star Wars has always featured strong women … Johnson’s film integrates them into all aspects of the story.

As I’ve said previously, Star Wars isn’t my thing, although I’ve very much enjoyed The Force Awakens, Rogue One and this one. But I don’t feel quite the exhilaration that the true fans feel at the resurgence of the series, nor can I understand the sense of betrayal from fans who believe that the recent films get it wrong.

Annihilation was released on Netflix so we saw it on the small screen. It’s a shame – it’s visually stunning and would have really benefited from being shown in the full cinema setting. However, it’s a superb sci-fi film, which has the courage to leave plenty of ambiguity, right to the end. And, refreshingly, the crack team that’s sent in to try to investigate the mysterious ‘Shimmer’ is made up of women – scientists and a paramedic. That’s one of the areas of ambiguity – were they chosen solely because of their specialist expertise, regardless of gender, or is their gender a factor in their selection, that the failure of successive teams of military men to emerge from the Zone is actually to do with gender?

A Quiet Place was one of the tensest ninety minutes I can recall (and I endured Forest’s last ditch Championship survival on goal difference a couple of seasons ago). It was initially a hard sell – you watch this film, you have to sign up to the discipline of no coughing, no rustling of crisp packets or sweet wrappers, no sotto voce asides to your neighbour. Silence is survival in this world, and we rapidly become part of it, as we see how this family has adapted every detail of their life to enable them to function in silence. It’s made very clear early on that the peril is real, and it gets realler. We watched this on the small screen but there was never any question of hitting pause to fetch a cuppa or go to the toilet. We sat so very still that my Fitbit thought I’d had a 90 minute sleep…

First Man was 60s science fiction become reality, portraying the build-up to the 1969 moon landing, focusing on Neil Armstrong, the first man to set foot on another world. Armstrong (as portrayed here by Ryan Gosling) was in many ways a hard man to root for, his emotional distance shown vividly in the final scene, where after his return to earth and still in quarantine, his reunion with his wife is through the barrier of a pane of glass.

A rather odd (and atypical) review in The New Yorker complained that:

there’s no sense of what Neil’s perspective might be on the Twist, the Beatles, or anything else going on in the turbulent sixties.

I can’t say I was particularly troubled by that – it is actually refreshing to reflect that probably most people in the sixties were not caught up in that cultural maelstrom. The reviewer goes on to claim that:

Chazelle openly mocks people who thought that the moon money was spent foolishly—those pesky intellectuals, blacks, and Hispanics who go on TV or into the street demanding “gimme” while the likes of Neil and his exclusively white, male colleagues uncomplainingly put their lives on the line to accomplish historic things in the interest of “mankind.” 

This seems to me an extraordinary claim. Nothing in the movie suggested to me either that Armstrong’s emotional closedness was being lauded (indeed, the damage to himself and to his family was very clearly shown), or that Chazelle was pushing some kind of MAGA patriotic agenda. A much more perceptive – but not uncritical – review appeared in The Culture Vulture .

One of the most striking things about the film was the sensation of the physical reality both of the machines that transported these men into space, and of the claustrophobia of being strapped into those machines – the sheer noise, the jolting and juddering, the shots of sheets of metal held together by nuts and bolts. We’re used to space craft as bright white shiny machines, not as something that might have been built in someone’s garage. I watched that first landing on TV, having been allowed a special dispensation to stay up after normal bedtime. Back then it might as well have been sci-fi – in First Man it’s science, it’s engineering, it’s mechanics and it’s fragile human bodies making it all work.

Three Billboards featured the redoubtable Frances McDormand, who was as magnificent as one might have expected. McDormand’s Mildred wasn’t readily likeable, even when she was being admirable, and she got it horribly wrong in many ways, but she was a powerful presence.

The heart of the film was Woody Harrelson’s police chief, trying to find the best in everyone. And the moment that touched me most was when as they confront each other he is racked by a cough that spatters blood over both of them, and she says, ‘oh, baby’, as she realises how very ill he is. It’s often a brutal film, and often brutally funny.

Cold War is a musical history of postwar Europe, shot in luminous black and white, a story of doomed lovers who find and lose and find and lose and find each other, always searching, never settling. The film’s last line is “Let’s go to the other side. The view is better from there”. 

The lovers’ story is told through music, from the raw rural folk that Wiktor and Irena are attempting to record, to the ‘Stalinisation’ of that tradition, the Parisian jazz and chanson that they immerse themselves in after their defection and back to the bastardised pop of Zula’s final performance. The chill referred to in the title is political and personal. Irena stands up during the first full-on Stalinised performance and walks out, never to be seen, or spoken of again. Zula admits in passing to having informed on Wiktor. Those were the realities, but they’re not underlined or over-explained. It’s beautiful and devastating.

My final pick for 2018 is Lady Bird. Saoirse Ronan is wonderful, as is Laurie Metcalf (always one of the best things about Roseanne). As a former teenage girl, and more recently as the mother of a teenage girl, I identified with both the eponymous Lady Bird (aka Christine) and with her mother Marion. This was real, and touching, and often very funny. There were scenes that I could swear were ripped from my own life:

Do you really need to use two towels?
Ah… No, I guess no.
If you need two towels you just have to say so because this affects my whole day. Because I have to do laundry before work, and I need to know if there are more towels that I need to wash.

Family life, summed up in one short exchange. And then there’s the sequence where mother and daughter attempt to choose a prom dress. I laughed and winced.

OK, so I kind of committed myself to a top 3. Black Panther, A Quiet Place, Three Billboards. Such very different films, which is why I’m not willing to rank them within that top 3. I hope the comments above explain why I’ve chosen them.

Honourable mentions to: Death of Stalin (Jason Isaacs!), the Showroom’s Bergman season of which I managed to see only Persona and Smiles of a Summer Night, and their Varda season of which I saw only Jacquot de Nantes. Both seasons whetted my appetite for more from those directors. I particularly loved the humour and warmth of Agnes Varda’s love letter to her husband, Jacques Demy. Also the first part of the new adaptation of Stephen King’s It, which was infinitely better than the previous version, and the second part of which I await eagerly.

It’s also important to recognise the old movies that I enjoyed this year. A bit of a Powell & Pressburger retrospective with Blimp, A Matter of Life & Death, and I Know Where I’m Going. Lord, those guys were brilliant. And a couple of Billy Wilders – the familiar (Some Like it Hot) and the new to me The Apartment (I’d seen the Bacharach musical based on the story but not the movie). Rewatched West Side Story as a birthday treat, and had my annual sobfest watching It’s a Wonderful Life just before Xmas.

Small screen will have to be a separate blog. Given current family pressures, it may be more of a list than a blog, but hey-ho, that’s how it goes. I also hope to look at how the Bechdel test stands up in terms of contemporary films, where it still has validity and importance and where it falls down.

Thanks to those who’ve shared these cinematic pleasures with me (Arthur, Viv, Martyn, Liz).

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