Archives for posts with tag: itv

Recent events have meant that I had a gap in my Netflix viewing schedule. House of Cards was delayed from its spring release following the scandal surrounding Kevin Spacey, meaning my traditional bridge that lasts me until Orange is the New Black was missing.

After a bit of scrolling around I came across Unforgotten, a crime drama that I had wanted to dip into when it was on ITV but never got the chance. So I took the opportunity to make up for lost time, and I am very glad I did.

The shows revolves around a cold case from forty years ago when the remains of a mixed-race teenager who was reported missing are found. The detectives then focus on four key suspects, a former gangster turned businessman, a reformed far-right activist, a bookkeeper with a history of violent assault and a vicar with a dodgy relationship history. Everyone has motive and the depth of their connections to the victim are slowly unfurled.

What I love is that the story isn’t rushed. There are no adrenaline pumping scenes, manic car chases or the like – it is all about slowly building a case through old-fashioned detection. For example, the interviewing of connections to the suspects, tracing pay phone records, the sort of stuff so many crime dramas do away with to make space for a torture scene.

Also, Unforgotten cleverly dodges another pet peeve of the complicated home life of the copper. Yes, Nicola Walker’s DI character has one, but it is subtle. A close but troubled bond with her father and a mother who hangs like a cloud over them both through her absence. It doesn’t detract from the main story, instead it merely rounds out a character.

It can be a bleak watch – there are suicide references and the constant feeling that no one is truly good can wear you down. The fact that the person most hit hard by the opening of the investigation on a personal level is the one who has most turned their back on their wicked former selves raises the question of even if the right person is convicted of this crime and the mother of the victim given some peace, is it truly justice if people have paid their debt in some other way.

The only real fault is that it does slip into one cliché. Private Eye recently mocked the crime drama trope of everyone who is suspicious staring out into the sunset, and this show practically thrives on it. Once you have spotted it as a marker it almost becomes comical, which is obviously not the intention.

That aside, it is still brilliant. It’s clever too. Fortunately, the second series is being repeated on Sunday nights, so I can dive straight in. What I use to fill my Netflix void though is anybody’s guess.

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If there is one night I often struggle to find TV I like, it’s Sunday. Actually, Saturday is a stretch too, but on that night I get access to my parents’ Sky+ box, allowing me to slowly work my way through The Orville, Derry Girls and any other show that is either Sky only or clashed with about 10 other things.

Sunday I have no such luck (except this weekend where an extra bank holiday is allowing me to grab an extra night with the beloved box), so I often find myself watching repeats of something. And, if things get really desperate, I can just about stomach an hour of whatever whimsy is on one of the mainstream channels.

Before anybody leaps up and tells me about the wonders of McMafia, Call the Midwife or whatever else is on that doesn’t fall into this category, I apologise in advance. These often clash with the once in a blue moon nights where something good is actually on, so no chance for me to be involved from the start.

Anyway, the whimsy. Currently, this is provided by ITV’s The Good Karma Hospital. I had a bit of a rant about this show last year for being too paint-by-numbers. You could see the formula from a mile off – medical crisis occurs that also intersects with a personal one, somebody (often the youngest, most inexperienced cast member) must learn a lesson, and one or both problems are resolved. Personal growth results and even the saddest storylines offer hope.

All of this is still true in the second series. Ruby Walker is more settled, but is still having to learn about the culture she is surrounded by and improve her medical skills. Gabriel Varma is still a condescending grump, although hints of his hinterland are coming through. And Lydia Fonseca is still Queen Bee, loved and feared with an almost Doc Martin level of forthrightness in her manner.

The writers continue to tantalise us with the possibility of a romance between Ruby and Gabriel. I still think if we get as far as series five there will be a wedding between the two. It is a story arc so obvious that you almost wonder why we are being forced to sit through it. Likewise, it is obvious that Lydia is being thawed out by ‘cheeky chappie’ Greg. To be honest, I find them more endearing as a couple and wish it was them we were putting the greater investment in.

One step up though has been the slowly unfurling subplot of Ruby’s missing father. Each episode seems to result in a few more breadcrumbs. It is hardly edge-of-your-seat stuff, but it at least is bringing a bit of depth to everything.

Clearly, this show has an audience. It beat the more dark and brooding The Halcyon to the desired renewal prize. This says a lot about what mainstream audiences want. Dark period dramas that put Britain in a less than flattering light will always lose to sunshine and positivity in a tropical locale, even if the locals are sometimes presented in a patronising light. I would still like a surprise every now and then though. Wouldn’t you?

On a recent episode of 8 Out of 10 Cats does Countdown Jimmy Carr made a barb at Fay Ripley, describing Cold Feet as the UK’s answer to Friends if the question was ‘What’s not quite as good as Friends?’ Ripley jumped to the show’s defence, pointing out that at least her show was still going. This does, however, ignore the massive gap between the original series ending and the comeback last year.

Even so, it does seem silly to compare the two shows, longevity aside. Friends was always a sitcom, Cold Feet a comedy-drama, and one of the rare ones that could pull off both at that. Yes, there were six people navigating relationships and careers in both with a significant ‘will they/won’t they’ dynamic’, but that’s where it ends.

I find Cold Feet to be one of the best-plotted shows on TV. It’s a tricky thing giving five (R.I.P. Rachel) central characters enough room for each story to breathe whilst still maintaining a group dynamic and allowing side characters to have their moments. The cleverly demarcated flashback scenes, where some of the group tell the rest what happened whilst we are shown it, is used just the right amount and with both humorous and dramatic effect. Jen and Pete’s sex tape scene was brilliantly comedic and tellingly honest about the gap between expectation and reality in our approach to sex.

I must admit to being nervous when they introduced the teenage pregnancy storyline where Karen and David’s daughter became pregnant by Adam’s son. This is a plot that has been done far too much in soaps and the like and you would struggle to find an original angle. Yet it did. The discussions around abortion were mature and focused on Olivia’s wish to have control over her body and Matt’s naïve belief he could rise to the challenge of fatherhood at just 16. The scene at the clinic was perfection and a lesson in understatement, a young girl facing the reality of her choices an everyone all so quiet and hushed, the fragility of the moment encapsulated merely in a tone of voice.

In truth, all the plots are absorbing. Jen facing the dilemma of reaching the peak of her career just as an ailing parent needs her most. David playing the night in shining armour to trapped Cheshire housewife. Karen risking everything to save her business. And, of course, Adam’s bumpy relationship with new squeeze Tina. I feel a bit sorry for Tina, as much in the centre of things as anyone yet still not given central cast status. Either let her be one of the gang or cut her loose. Otherwise she just becomes a side character who the viewers will never fully accept.

Cold Feet is a brilliant examination of life in your late forties and early fifties and is both funny and honest. Friends may never come back and tell us what happened next, but it doesn’t need to. Cold Feet is doing it better than anyone ever could.

This week I’m not going to talk about why I watch a show. Instead, I want to discuss why I’ve stopped watching a show. This is a big deal for me, to officially give up on something, as it almost never happens. I am psychologically programmed to stay to the end, as horrendous as it may be.

But this year, I’ve decided: no more The X Factor. Thirteen years is enough. But why, you may ask, especially as I’ve spent the last few years vigorously spent the last few years defending its place on our schedules?

Well, the simplest and most honest reason is that I’m just not excited by its return. It felt like investing two nights a week was becoming a millstone round my neck. This was increased by the fact virtually none of my friends watch it, so I couldn’t discuss the highs and lows as a viewer even if I wanted to. I felt a similar relief when I let go of Big Brother when it left Channel 4 – I had got my summer back.

Digging deeper, there are several reasons for my lack of excitement. Firstly, the reduction in live shows and increased audition shows is not something I’m a fan of. I didn’t like how the live shows were hacked away at two years ago, as I felt we saw less of acts ability to demonstrate variety and quality. It also makes it easier to manipulate the results, knowing Cowell now has two shots at ditching acts he doesn’t like with double eliminations.

Another is that, whilst we always knew there were machinations to push viewers to backing the producers preferred choice of winner, we now KNOW these occur. It is very unsubtle. We know the tricks – the bland praise, the props and song choices, the carefully planned running order. The only excitement comes when such plans go wrong, when an act earmarked for an early bath picks up traction.

Finally, it seems to me like the show has given up, happy to trundle along until ITV give up on it entirely. Yes, I like the fact they are having another go at letting acts produce their own material, but other than that it feels like decidedly subdued. Don’t get me wrong, the judging line-up is the best since the Minogue/Cole era. But last night I didn’t find myself compelled to watch.

Whether I last all autumn and winter is another question. Dark nights make for poor companionship. But for now, I feel happy in my choice. A new life for me at the weekend beckons. Wish me luck!

Scandi-noir has a lot to answer for, not least the plethora of pale imitations that it generates. Ditto Broadchurch, with its perfect representation of how a horrific crime can disrupt a small town. Combining these two sources is The Loch. It has the macabre deaths of Scandinavia and its dramatic but gloomy scenery with the small community of people with secrets of Broadchurch. Tartan noir mixed with McBroadchurch if you will.

We have the murder of a piano teacher, and now a local teenage tearaway, both dispatched slightly horrifically. Everyone has a reason to look suspicious, including the paedophile doctor and the ex-con living under a new name. A top DCI from the big city (Siobhan Finneran) is shipped in, upsetting local cops and bringing along with her a ‘celebrity forensic psychologist’. Oh, and there’s a man tied to the bottom of the loch that nobody has spotted yet.

It is as barking mad as it sounds. There’s the man being kept in a drugged coma by his mother, locals looking shifty at each other and random wolves popping up all over the place. It is as if the writers were given free rein to do whatever they like, but when it came to filming the budget kicked in and tripping over into the truly surreal Twin Peaks style was put on hold.

Nevertheless, despite (or maybe because of) its ludicrousness it is actually quite enjoyable. With nobody remotely acting guilt free we have a whole village of suspects, although if it is the local sergeant’s husband I will scream in despair. Once you acclimatise to it, the oddness becomes intriguing rather than distracting.

Of course, for me the making and breaking of crime drama is in how it handles the procedural stuff. This is where The Loch falls sadly short. The detectives seem to just barrel along, doing what the hell they like. If this ever makes it to court, the defence will have a field day with procedural errors. The whole case will collapse in the space of an afternoon. It didn’t have to be this way: Broadchurch, Line of Duty and even Scott & Bailey are proof you can talk procedure and keep the drama.

But maybe that’s the point – procedural dramas are already being done so well, why copy? Hang the technicals, forget the rules, and don’t even consider the paperwork. The eccentricities will be a distraction from all this.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to hear a conversation about forms, or an interview of a suspect done with all the quiet suspense of the show’s rivals. It’s what a lot of us like. You don’t need to dial back the odd, just turn up the real.

American viewers would probably find several aspects of British TV strange, not least the fact that we often have to wait a long time for our shows to come back. In America, a series can end in May and be back September/October. Here, due to shorter season lengths, a show can run in January and February not be back until the same time next year, or even longer.

Take Broadchurch. Season one was out in March 2013. We then had to wait until January 2015 for number two, and the third only commenced in February of this year. Our friends over the pond wouldn’t tolerate this. But then, they have shows put together by teams, whilst many British ones are one-man band operations.

Furthermore, it is worth the wait. This series, the focus is on the rape of Trish Winterman. It is actually a good snapshot of the complexities of such a case. The perpetrator is known to the victim. The victim is traumatised and is only regaining her knowledge of what happened slowly. The shame she feels telling others, as if she was to blame. The muddying of the waters by her own recent sexual past – newly divorced and rediscovering single life. The incredulity of some of the officers on the case.

What creator Chris Chibnall does so well is slowly release drips of information and emotion. The tension isn’t created by fast-paced chases, but by the slow enveloping of the fog around people, for it to clear away at a similarly glacial pace. All this is punctuated by small explosions of emotion. Tempers are lost and then steadied. It is often the pushing down of emotion, as opposed to the unleashing of it, that drives the energy.

For example, the sub-plot of the aftermath of the events of the previous two seasons is handled beautifully. The parents of murdered Danny Latimer have gone down separate paths. Beth has rebuilt her life as a counsellor for sexual abuse victims, being the emotional pillar she so needed those years ago. Mark is on a path to destruction, angry at the lack of justice and wanting revenge. The scene where he is confronted by Beth is harrowing, not least the end where Beth walks away, denying she still dreams of their son. Her ‘no’ is almost choked, because of course she does, but she cannot carry on grieving.

In lesser hands, the ‘guess the rapist’ plot at the centre of this could be tacky. But it is the realness of it all, the fact that everyone is given convincing light and shade, that none of the men under suspicion are without darkness but also not pure monsters, that makes this show rise above it.

It goes without saying that the interplay between David Tennant and Olivia Coleman is as good as chemistry can get. Both playing out their own domestic dramas as they tackle the case. He, fearing his daughter’s every contact with a man, she, scared of her son following his father’s violent past. It’s telling how good this show is that, even with these two in it, plus the likes of Sarah Parish and Lenny Henry, star power never detracts from the strength of the stories.

This is to be the last series, which is sad. But also, it is the right thing to do. After a ropey second series, it is back on a high, and can bow it with its reputation of being a show that is both mainstream and challenging intact.

The coarser end of the humour spectrum is rarely my bag. I am not one for fart jokes, and innuendo really needs to be delivered pitch perfect to raise a smile. I often find that shows like South Park, that at their best offer the most biting satire on TV, let themselves down by filling a gap in the plot with toilet humour.

So it’s a surprise to everyone, including myself, that I make time for Benidorm. There are so many reasons why I wouldn’t watch it. There not one, but two, jokes, that revolved around a character farting and leaving a bad smell, another around urination, and another about that well-worn trope of kissing your mate’s grandma.

Yet somehow, I find something to laugh at. This week’s biggest laugh revolved around a character resorting to wearing a multi-coloured kaftan. Base, I know, but the sheer daftness of the entire show allows your guard to drop. Nobody tunes in expecting something deep anyway.

This series seems to have learnt from its previous dip in form. Last series saw many established characters missing – Madge Garvey and Liam the most missed – whilst those that were still around looked lost. The only saving grace was Johnny Vegas and Elsie Kelly reprising their mother and son double act of The Oracle and Noreen. No signs of them this series so far, but I’m hopeful.

Even if they are missing, there is enough to compensate. The Dawson’s, new and slightly underused additions last series, are being bolstered by the arrival of Loretta, the aforementioned lascivious nan. I’m expecting plenty of scenery chewing from her. Also, Liam is back, giving Kenneth, one the strongest characters, his sparring partner. Their odd couple dynamic – Kenneth all flamboyant and crude homosexuality with minimal morality but a fantastically sharp tongue, Liam slightly camp but straight with a rigid moral compass and work ethic but without the intellect to match – fizzes.

I’m still not sold on Joey, however. The dumb youngster character is overused in shows like this. Perhaps it’s just me and my paranoia that we are living in a society that celebrates stupidity, but I cannot find him funny at all. I would much prefer Tiger to be paired off with Robbie and allow those two characters to really develop, rather than have an odd friendship triangle.

As I said before, don’t watch this expecting clever, erudite humour. It knows its audience and plays to it. Something must be working anyway, it’s on its ninth series. Not many other comedies get to say that.