Archives for posts with tag: BBC2

I apologise in advance if I am starting my review of the second series of The Misadventures of Romesh Ranganathan in exactly the same way as I started the first. To be fair, I have written so many of these, finding a new to introduce my musings is challenging.

The celebrity travelogue is an overdone genre and one I only dip into occasionally as a last resort. I have two major beefs with the form. The first is that some destinations are decidedly overdone. India, Japan, the USA, Australia – there must be barely a town, river or mountain that hasn’t been visited. Any more ‘breathtaking’ visits to the Taj Mahal or Ayers Rock and I will throw my TV out of the window.

This leads me nicely to my second, which is the endless cooing of the presenter and the almost patronising repartee with the locals. This often descends into the trying of a local craft, which the presenter ‘hilariously’ fails to master. Is there any point to these moments, over than to titillate the Little Englanders back home?

What I like about Misadventures is that both of these faults are absent. The whole point of the show is to go to the most unloved by tourists places on earth. The first episode of the new series took us to Zimbabwe, a country more known for the cruelty of Robert Mugabe than its hospitality.

Yet, as we find out, there are plenty reasons to go. It offers some genuinely beautiful scenery, not least the best views of the Victoria Falls. And the wildlife is as varied as any other safari. Not only that, but there is genuinely a spirit of warmth in the people, for all their turbulent history. It is also splendidly irreverently presented, Romesh as fascinated by an elephant’s penis as he is by the landscape.

Which brings me to how it overturns the second convention. Romesh and his guide Chipo do not shy away from discussing the problems of the past, both in its colonial days and after. A chat in a country club certainly illuminates the troubled race relations and this is only heightened when the meet Ian, a white Zimbabwean and conservationist who made no secret of his longing for a return to empire days. Cue a surprisingly tense discussion over the nature of colonisation and the treatment of indigenous people – is it a process of civilisation or subjugation?

This is a show that is both lighter and deeper than your average travelogue. It’s engaging, fun and clever and is the perfect way to spend a Sunday evening.

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We have all seen those glamorous legal dramas with immaculately tailored suits parading around high-rise buildings. Some put a less wealthy spin on it, but even then there is an air of a crusader, a good person in a bad world of injustice. Yes they are often renegade but for all the pretence of being unkempt they are actually as immaculate as their wealthy counterparts.

But is it really like that? Last Chance Lawyer: New York City lifts the lid of how lawyers do their work. Howard Greenberg is, to put it mildly, an eccentric. He is untidy, uncouth and uncontrollable. His phone manner is gloriously bad, openly referring to himself as ‘that piece of shit’ in his greeting. In fact, his communication is a whole tick-box of no-no’s. Shouting and swearing are how he gets things done.

That extends beyond his work. While junior attorney Michael is a prime target for Howard’s wrath, his wife Therese (The Boopa) also cops some flak, arguing about the domestic things in life, including the one that stalks every marriage, who stacks the dishwasher. Both of them survive onslaughts by a mixture of firing back and knowing that Howard’s no bullshit approach is a sign of caring. If he’s nice to you, chances are you are being fired or receiving divorce papers.

Therese is an accidental star of the show. A former court journalist, she is as knowledgeable on the law as her husband and reviews his cases with a sharp eye. I could watch a lot more of her.

The cases themselves are intriguing. A cop accused of misusing her weapon on a love rival. A barber facing a charge of attempted murder. Unlike in a legal drama, there is no last-minute piece of evidence that turns the cases on their head. Instead we have on person jailed, perhaps unfairly but bound by an early mistake in their defence. The other is resolved through a plea deal, and not a dramatic one at that.

There is a touching scene when sentencing is delivered in one case. Accepting he has lost for his client, Howard self-sacrifices and makes a brief but emotive speech about letting her down. Of course he hasn’t, we have spent the episode watching him try everything to get a result. But he has a plan. By making himself look like a failure, he opens the door for an appeals lawyer to change the result on a technicality.

So underneath the swearing, rudeness and flaring temper, Howard Greenberg is still a crusader. You want him on your side. Just don’t ask him stack the dishwasher.

We are used to travelogues being about the familiar yet exotic. Japan, Brazil, China, India… we all know about these countries enough to be conscious of them, yet still have that distance to make us curious. For all their other-worldliness, they are open to tourists and trade off it successfully.

The Misadventures of Romesh Ranganathan takes a different slant by taking us to countries that are not so travel friendly. These are places with, to put it mildly, an image problem and have become trapped by a conception that the Western world has fixed upon it.

The first episode saw comedian Romesh visit Haiti. It epitomises many of the problems third-world countries have. It has suffered a combination of cruel dictatorships, that when they collapsed left a country with no real infrastructure for a democracy to grow, gang warfare and poverty that has arisen from a lack of law and order, and natural disasters. The island’s political history meant that just as other Caribbean islands began to take advantage of tourism, Haiti was shutting the world out. And of course, it is the place that Trump poetically called a ‘shithole’.

Romesh is a good host, adding some dry humour to the potentially bleak atmosphere. My favourite comment was when he was describing his mum giving him a blessing before he flew out- ‘it was only slightly undermined by the fact she was still wearing her Royal Mail uniform’. He also gets mildly hysterical when taking part in a voodoo ceremony, in what proves to be a highlight for the viewer.

But Romesh is not just some glib commentator. He is equally bewildered and appalled by what he sees, especially in some of the more poverty-stricken areas. Another comment of his is damning of our Western hunger for exotic luxury. Listing all the stereotypical delights of the Caribbean he is missing, he realises, ‘This place isn’t built for tourists because it isn’t even built for the people that live here’.

He does find some hope though. The beaches of Jacamel have been relatively unscarred by dictatorships and earthquakes. A bit of eco-conscious development here, and suddenly the economy could go. The island can repair its physical wounds and heal its emotional ones. This island does not have to be the prisoner of geography – look at its neighbour, Dominican Republic. The right politicians and a small dose of luck could see it rise.

The show is undoubtedly sobering. You realise that when cameras stop rolling, the people still need to keep living. There are ‘shitholes’ all over the third world that don’t have the skills to top being so. But a bit of global cooperation could go a long way.

On Mother’s Day, it seems appropriate to review series 2 of Mum. This low-key sitcom follows a year in the life of widowed Cathy and her family and friends over a series of inconsequential celebrations or minor life events. For example, one episode focused on a room needing to be cleared on Good Friday in time for a new carpet to be fitted.

The humour is in the turn of phrase within a sentence, as opposed to big gestures, although the most recent episode did feature the ghastly Pauline collapse in a deckchair. It is typical of the show that the joke didn’t rely on the physical, but on the barbed verbal exchange afterwards. Horrified at the impression that she had broken it, Pauline ensured events were span to construe the chair was already broken.

Every character has their streaks of madness in their character. Cathy’s son Jason and his girlfriend Kelly share a dopiness and shallowness although seem to be fundamentally quite sweet, although both also have a dash of selfishness that comes from youthful self-absorption. Kelly also has an inconvenient habit of picking up random sharp objects and playing with them in absent-minded manner.

Then there is the bitterness of in-laws Reg and Maureen, angry at each other, everyone else and, most of all, old age. They spend social events sitting apart, refusing to engage and offering their blunt opinions to anyone who will listed. Dips in particular come in for a drubbing from them.

It is the aforementioned Pauline though who steals the best lines. A comic monster in the most powerful sense, she has disdain for all around her, despite her dependence on them. A virtual nervous breakdown over the thought of going to a carvery in the first episode was a sight to behold, not least her desperate musings on how you could possibly need three types of potato.

All this borne stoically by Cathy, a patient smile on her face which only drops when alone. She has her own problems, engaging in a delicate dance of flirting-yet-not with her late husband’s best friend Michael. The ‘will they, won’t they’ element between the two of them gives a bit of emotional heft to what otherwise would just be another comedy of manners.

The most recent episode set round a barbecue was as near perfect as it gets. All the classic elements were in place – Jason waxing lyrical on his dad’s technique, Pauline boasting of her connections at the golf club, Cathy and Michael negotiating a visit to the garden centre – but the last few minutes really rose it above. First, Reg had one of those all too common features of grief, as he looked around the room and realising his late son would never be able to join them. Then, in one of the most touching scenes I have seen, Pauline put aside her monstrous nature to help her boyfriend’s daughter fix a dropped stitch. It was a rare tender moment form her, betraying something soft within, a lost maternalism. Single shot looks don’t get better than that.

Firstly, an apology for missing a week. Real life got in the way. And by real life, I mean a Christmas Afternoon High Tea with prosecco. But I am back now, so let’s crack on.

Last year the BBC launched a number of sitcom pilots to see if any could generate enough interest to succeed as a series. Most failed to even raise an eyebrow, but one – Motherland – generated both critical and public acclaim. This perhaps isn’t surprising when you consider the calibre of people working on it. Two of the four writers are Graham Linehan and Sharon Horgan, both of whom have a pedigree in making excellent comedies.

Motherland is, as the title obviously suggests, about parenting. Anna Maxwell Martin plays Julia, who is trying to ‘have it all’ and ending up often with having nothing but stress thanks to a feckless husband. Diane Morgan is the more slatternly (and presumably unemployed) single mum Liz, Lucy Punch as queen of the ‘Tiger Mums’ Amanda and Paul Ready is stay-at-home dad Kevin.

It has to be said the strongest character is Liz, full of brutal honesty and realism with also a touch vulnerability. A particular highlight came in episode one when Julia’s entertainer for her child’s birthday party was exposed as a racist and Liz had also used and refused to pay him. When Julia queried if it was the racism, Liz responded with: “No, because he was shit! If I didn’t pay people because they were racist I would have never got my satellite dish fitted. Or my wedding catered for”.

This more down-to-earth humour balances the more manic energies brought by Julia and Kevin. The latter in particular is annoying, a mixture of weird obsessiveness with a desperation to please normally only seen in puppies. It is the fact this portrayal veers in the cartoony that is the show’s biggest weakness. Everybody else you feel is somewhat believable, regardless of their faults.

Putting Kevin aside, this is an excellent comedy. It actually makes you laugh as the strands of the episode build to a climax. There isn’t any of the absurdism of Linehan’s other sitcoms, but then, that wouldn’t work here. This is about wry observations of modern parenting and the social rules that come with it.

I hope this show achieves continued success. Female-dominated comedies often get plenty of well-meaning comments but nothing to show for it. This deserves more. At the very least, a BAFTA for Morgan, who seems to be constantly just bubbling under the surface as a breakout talent. Maybe this could be her chance to join those at comedy’s top table. She has earnt it.

 

You have to be careful with a format change. It has to be for the good, entirely complementing the programme and audience involved. A case in point of it going badly wrong appears to be The X Factor, where the sing-off has now been replaced with a straight elimination each night and instead a prize fight between the two highest scorers. It has not gone down well – the viewers want the metaphorical blood-spilling that putting the weakest two acts through entails. With me not watching it I can’t offer my views but I do feel it to be an odd idea.

Robot Wars, on the other hand, have been quite canny with their changes. Pre-battle interviews and competitor profiles have been shrunk down, allowing us more time to focus on what we are tuning in for: two lumps of metal tearing chunks off each other. You see, this is how you play to your audience.

We also have a slightly different elimination process – rather than two four-player melees with the top two from each going forward to round-robin semi-final, we instead have two three-way battles, the top team in each automatically qualifying for the semis and the remaining four have a ‘robot redemption’ fight, the winner of each joining the semi’s. Again, more battles, plus a chance for an otherwise excellent robot that had a bit of bad luck in the first round to get through to the later stages again.

The final change will become apparent in the final, where the wild card option has been replaced by 10 robot ‘last man standing’ contest between the second- and third-placed robots in each heat. This could be a glorious moment of carnage or too chaotic for us to know what is happening until it is all over, but I’m willing to give it a go.

Overall, Robot Wars delivers exactly what I want from a show like this. There is destruction and tactics, but still a feeling of goodwill. If a team is up against fixing a robot, particularly if they are an underdog, a whole pit can pull together to ensure the next fight takes place. Everybody understands the glory comes from winning by being the best, not by making someone else the worst.

I do have one quibble, which is the tendancy to have an uneven spread across the heats of front-runners. For instance, heat two had champions Carbide, runners-up Eruption and finalists Aftershock, which I’m assuming means there is another heat where there is a group of robots all lacking pedigree. I can’t help but think some kind of seeding system is needed to prevent this.

Even with this though, this is still one of my favourite hours of TV each week. It’s fun and weirdly positive for saying it centres so much round trashing something that is someone’s lifework. People may joke about the geeks ruling the earth, but on this evidence, we better start asking for mercy now.

Historical comedy is probably one of the hardest to get right. The balance needs to be found between mocking our ancestors’ beliefs on a subject without making it a history lesson, whilst also spearing some of our modern-day pre-occupations. Blackadder did it near perfectly, particularly season 3, but it is easy to see why it has often been avoided. For every hit there is a Let Them Eat Cake.

Still, one crops up now and again, and recently we have seen the launch of Quacks. This is a sitcom based around three Victorian medicine men – surgeon Robert, William the alienist (psychologist) and John, a dentist. There is also Robert’s wife, Caroline, who is keen to become a medical professional herself, and Dr Hendricks, the head of a medical school.

Naturally, most of the humour is about how backwards medical practice was: the high mortality rate of surgery, the dangerousness of early anaesthetics, the lack of any psychological understanding at all. Many of these are used as set ups to the plots of the episode, rather than the plot itself, which is a relief, as this is the weakest strand. Which is awkward, as this should be where a historical sitcom shines.

Instead, it is the surreal pin-wheeling off that is driving force behind the humour. Take episode two, where William and Caroline take a drug-addicted Charles Dickens to John’s shop to try his drugs, leading to Caroline and Charles being locked in a cupboard with a comatose boy who suddenly comes round.

Which brings to me another strength of the show, which is the guest characters. Andrew Scott was delightfully horrid as the attention seeking and sex obsessed Dickens, playing the character exactly as his worst critics had written him. Of course, the problem with guest appearances being the root of a show’s success is that if an episode has a duff one or not one at all, then you are left with a central cast that offers little.

This is the show’s biggest weakness. Everybody feels a little underdeveloped as characters. For example, John is rarely stretched beyond being a drug-loving dentist. There is also a cloying subplot of William’s love of Caroline while Robert ignores her. I do wish someone could make a sitcom where men and women are just friends and stay that way. I doubt this plot will add to anymore laughs to the show – it hasn’t done so far anyway.

Despite this, I want the show to find its feet. It is too easy for channels to ditch sitcoms after one season if they don’t quite work nowadays, rather than letting them adjust as time goes on. Blackadder only really worked series 2 onwards, for example. There is a kernel of something good here, but rather than labouring how terrible medicine was back then, it needs to focus on the more surrealist elements. Don’t just raise a smile, make me laugh. It’s what I’m paying a licence for.