Legends: The War on Drugs

 "It's because of what happened to me that I know it hasn't happened to them."

For Guy, Kate and Bailey the stakes of the deadly game are getting higher and higher, with lots of guns, tension, and character moments, from the O'Connells being sprung from a prison van at the beginning to the shocking bloodshed at the end. And, this time, at the centre of it all is drug kingpin Carter, a man whose greed, ambition and need for control leads to horrific levels of violence, death... and, it's strongly hinted at, hubris. 

There's more, though. Thatcher is under threat by the men in the grey suits, Hezza is on the march, it's the Tory conference... and the safety of all three of our protagonists is potentially put at risk for the sake of party politics. Don is there to discuss with others (and us) the psychological well-being of Guy, Kate and Bailey... and he should know. Steve Coogan is, as ever, extraordinary.

Bailey slowly gains the trust of Eddie, who in turn, unsurprisingly, is losing faith in the volatile Carter. There is drama between different Turkish factions. And for Guy, in particular, life feels dangerous and precarious. And the legend is changing him, causing him to threaten his daughter's piano teacher. 

There's a lot going on, and it's all gripping stuff. And yet, with all good telly, character is at the heart of it all. 

Legends: Could You Offer More?

 "Lunch money? What are you, twelve?"

1990. It was a very different time, the early years of rave culture, and Thatcher (just!) hanging on. But it was also a time of massively increasing availability of heroin. And so we have the hard-hitting opening, with two young people, from very different class backgrounds but both with their lives ahead of them, have those very lives snuffed out.

There is, of course, a lot of cynicism in how the government of the day reacted- Alex Jennings has an excellent cameo as rightly forgotten Home Secretary David Waddington driving home this very point. Thatcher, at a low ebb, needed a success. But there's no doubting the moral urgency of snuffing out the heroin trade.

The way this is to be done, however, is on a shoestring. Ordinary civil servants from Her Majesty's Customs and Excise are to go undercover, with only a little training, no extra resources and no extra pay... which is, wow. And so we have our triumvirate who have what it takes- Bailey the VAT man (yay, he says cryptically!); Kate the vice officer, and Guy from Customs- a real person who wrote the book on which all this is based. They are the only three who make it through the rigorous selection process, which is enormous fun to behold.

It's a joy, as ever, to experience the sheer charisma of Steve Coogan as Don Clarke, the world-weary yet wise man in charge, the person who anchors all this. And, soon, we see our brave trio into action, and very real danger.

This is going to be fun. Loving the character of Mylonas...

The Lady in the Van (2015)

 "You wouldn't get Harold Pinter pushing a van down the street."

I remember reading, some decades ago, some mention of the tragic and eccentric Miss Mary Sheppard, as she certainly wasn't called, in the memoirs of Alan Bennett. rather more recently, we lost the superlative Maggie Smith. So it's high time that I saw, and blogged, this film.

Much though Alex Jennings is magnificent in totally inhabiting Alan Bennett while also giving us not merely an impression but an actual performance, Maggie Smith is indeed utterly incredible here, in a role that perfectly fits her talents- a humorous figure, yes, but one who will, by the film, come to evoke such pathos. Not exactly likeable- but endearing, nonetheless.

Yes, as befitting a script by Alan Bennett, this film is about so much. The very English timidity that can lead one to reluctantly allow an imperiously haughty homeless old lady to live in a van on one's property. How easily one can become a carer without really intending to, or realising it. That very English issue of class- Miss Sheppard is from loftier origins than the nevertheless Oxford educated Alan Bennett, son of a Leeds butcher, yet he is now a feted playwright living in fashionable Camden whereas she is homeless- plays out in all its nuances, most deliciously as Bennett's mother avoids contact with her son's unwanted guest because "With her being educated, I wouldn't know what to say."

This isn't a film for those who like action- very little, I suppose, happens, and even the mystery of Miss Sheppard's past is not over-emphasised. This is a quietly philosophical, meditative film that is, above all, about the ethics of using real peoples' lives for one's writing, and I for one found it most enjoyable.

Inspector Morse: The Sins of the Fathers

 "He didn't think Mr Trevor could organise a proverbial. Even in his own brewery."

Last episode was, especially on reflection, utterly superb. And so is this one, full of cleverly interwoven plot threads and nuanced characters played by first rate guest stars... until it isn't. The ending, with its sudden reveal of events back in history which motivated the murderer, doesn't feel earned and, although it doesn't exactly breal Father Knox's traditional rules of detective fiction, it isn't really in the spirit. None of this historical Knox stuff was forewarned to the viewer.

And yet the drama is excellent. Betty Marsden's racist mother, and Lionel Jeffries and Isabel Dean as the horribly snobbish family of the victim, all particularly excel, although we do find ourselves with that age old problem of detective telly, that the most famous guest actors are likely to be the ones whodunit.

The young Alex Jennings, though... wow. I realise he's been ubiquitous on television these last few years, but as a young actor he could exude such nuance and, yes, menace.

A flawed but impressive instalment, though. And, yet again, a remindwr that the world of my early youth is long gone. No more posh old people of that generation, and no more typewriters. But we have real ale still, and long may it persist.

Wolf Hall- The Mirror and the Light: Light

 "The King of France gave me gloves. He didn't want to marry me..."

Wow. And with that... I'm broken.

The genius of this real piece of televisual splendour is that... well, wew know what happens. This is documented histoiry. We know how and when Thomas Cromwell dies. There's no suspense here, but suspense is not the point. There is only character, and emotion.

There is Cromnwell's true stoicism, as he runs rings round his interlocutors while knowing he is nevertheless doomed. Oh, he's accused of arrogance, getting above himself, wanting to marry Mary, othersuch absurdities... and heresy, of which he is guilty by the standards of the age, rejecting the Pope only for a very Enflish Catholicism. Yet above all, I think, it's his impatience for the grinding of due process, his manipulation of events, that he is damned. And so, as he says, he will be followed by slower men, and England will suffer.]

He is clear-minded, cautioning his friends to stay apart and not seem to be plotting. He insists that Gregory denounce him for his own safety, as would any father in his position. Yet his calm does not mean absence of feeling, as Mark Rylance shows us with sublime subtlety. Some peoople are vlatile, but those of us whonare calm and composed have feelings too, and Cromwell has his demons... and yet one, at least, is healed. He feels himself reconciled with Wolsey's ghost, and his final plrea for forgiveness before his beheading, are clearly aimed at his former master, a lovely touch. And, as a parallel, his own protege Rafe has the most love for his own master.

And so it ends, and so does he. The ending is devatating. Liuke Anne Boleyn, he finds dignity before the blade takes his life, all as the king prepares to wed yet again...

Sublime television.

Wolf Hall- The Mirror and the Light: The Mirror

 "You have few friends, Cromwell..."

This episode, as are so many others, is a materpiece in how it shows us the slow bursting of Cromwell's bubble, power and favour slipping away from him. Yes, the final couple of minutes are enormously shocking, even if you know your history, but the whole thing is masterfully structured.

There are, of course, big events swirling outside of Cromwell's control. The events of Henry meeting, and didliking, Anne of Cleves are just as we know from history, but the wider European context is emphasised, with its ironies. An alliance with the German princes is necessary precisely because the alliance between France and Charles V threatens England- yet, as soon as the king is married, England's ambassador to Spain (none other than Sir Thomas Wyatt, whose greatest poem is, of course, about Henry's terrifying, bloody and murderous capricioiusness) drives a wedge between them. The German alliance, and Henry's unhappy marriage, is no longer needed.

Worse, Cromwell's feud with the Duke of Norfolk is deepened, as the chancery which prays for Norfolk's ancestors is dissolved. And Norfolk, it seems, has been hiding conciliatory messages from France. And then there are the ongoing rumours about Cromwell and Mary, Cromwell yet again preventing her marriage...

And the king grows ever colder. And ever closer to Norfolk's niece.

There's so much nuance here. Cromwell's demons appear in flashback, and he now speaks to Wolsey's absent ghost. This is an episode of wonder. We really shouldn't be shocked by the ending, which really should be predictable. It says so much that we are.

Wolf Hall- The Mirror and the Light: Jenneke

 "You're going to bring them down? The oldest and richest familes in the land?"

"Like skittles!"

It's redundant, by now, for me to point out that any given episode of Wolf Hall, this one most certainly included, is a televisual masterpiece. But I seem to have done so anyway. Yes, big things are happening- the birth of a son for the king, the tragic, negligent death of Jane, the peace between King Francis and Charles V and the dangers posed to England. And yet this series ais about Thomas Cromwell, and this is where his position starts to slip.

Oh, he finds happiness in Jenneke, the lovely daughter of whom he's just learned... yet he is loving, good, tender and fatherly, a good man. In stark contrast to the things which Dorothea said to him, things that have truly shaken to him and, as we often see, haunt his nightmares. He doubts himself, wonders if he betrayed Wolsey after all, knowingly or not, and confesses himself "undone".

Jane's death upsets him deeply, more so than his tyrant king, play-acting at mourning. And Stephen Gardiner is back, with the ear of the king, pushing him against "heresy". Cromwell, baring his soul to Archbishop Cranmer, begins to despair that all he's done to bring Protestantism to England may perhaps be for naught. And Gardiner (Alex Jennings a worthy successor to Mark Gatiss) is an insidious foe, one in the ascendant.

He is getting nowhere with the Poles. He clashes with the Duke of Norfolk, ironically in defence of Wolsey and the old ways. His influence with Mary is diminished. 

All hope rests in an alliance with the German princes, and a new bride from Cleves. We know the history here, of course. Yet this episode gives us a much deeper context in which Cromwell is already losing ground.

As Cromwell's vaunted ambassador to Charles V, Thomas Wyatt, would say... circa regna tonat.

The Crown: Season 2, Episode 6- Vergangenheit

"He's shouting, darling. Only zealots shout."

This is, perhaps, the finest episode so far, and rich in its themes of duty and (not narrowly religious)  faith.

It's obvious to those of us with vague knowledge of the Duke of Windsor's wartime activites that the two plot threads- David's desire to return from exile and do some useful work to free him from a life of empty decadence versus the looming forced publication of secret wartime papers linked to the toyals and, as we see in the flashback with George VI, are a source of great shame- are linked. And so the overall plot, as Elizabeth learns the full truth (perhaps) from Tommy Lascelles and ultimately exiles him forever, plays out superbly, with excellent dramatic beats and superb characterisation throughout.

Except the episode is even better than that. There are so many superb touches, from Tommy Lascelles preciousness with his miniature troops (the geek), to the quote above- given the wider themes of the episode, is the Queen Mother comparing Billy Graham to Hitler, as least in the limited sense that demagoguery is not a good thing? Yet the presence of Graham here- and the Queen's interest in him- provide a contrast between the dutiful and deeply conscientious Christian sovereign and the life of empty luxury and fundamental tackiness led by her flighty uncle in Paris. We last see Elizabeth kneeling in prayer, while we last see David giving a look of profound alienation as he suffers yet another party. Alex Jennings is superb here.

The first scene between Elizabeth and Graham is superb, too. I'm not someone capable of faith myself (show me empiiacal proof that God exists and I'll believe, but don't just tell me there's an invisible man who lives in the sky and not expect a raised eyebrow) but the desire of the Head of the Church of England to be a "simple Christian" is touching. Although nowhere near as good as the revelation that Phil has been getting bladdered with the Queen Mum and Tommy Lascelles.

Is what Tommy Lascelles says about Edward VIII literally true? I'm sure to a large extent it is, but in full? Was David significantly worse than his brother for hob-nobbing with Nazis in the 1930s, when the Holocaust was unsuspected but it was already clear Hitler was a cruel dictator, whatever sympathies one may have had for Germany after Versailles? I'm no expert. But this is a supetlative hour of telly.

A Very English Scandal: Episode 3

“I was rude, I was vile, I was queer, I was myself!"

After a peerless couple of episodes, themselves a bloody good example of quality telly, this final episode simply knocks both of them into a cocked hat. Extraordinary.

We see the evidence pieced together, inexorably, until the shocking moment of Thorpe's arrest arrives. The storytelling beats are perfect, the mix of humour and pathos just as in real life, the structure of the whole thing an absolute triumph of both writing and direction, the dialogue simply magnificent, the ending deeply satisfying.

There is of course a harsh light, leavened necessarily by humour, into the shocking levels of homophobia, police brutality, hypocrisy and rank snobbery- the way Thorpe blanks his old friend David, who happens to be northern and common, in the courtroom. But there is also a nod to the other side of the '70s- the clothes, the disco, the famous Peter Cook ribbing of the summing up with the line about "player of the pink oboe". There is injustice; there is inequality; these things are not ok and must be fought, but still there is life, and there is laughter, and there is joy. It's all wonderfully RTD and, after the sadly under-viewed Cucumber, reminds us that RTD is one of the best writers we have. That domestic, semi-confession scene with semi-confession, cod in parsley sauce, love, forgiveness and very understated English emotion, is alone worthy of a BAFTA.

Hugh Grant, of course, also triumphs here, finding even more nuance within this complicated, genuinely progressive man who, in the end, reflexively abuses his privilege to do terrible things, yet is also a victim of the prejudices of his generation. Adrian Scarborough excels too, though, enjoying himself hugely stealing the show as the larger-than-life George Carman. Yet Ben Whishaw perhaps lingers in the mind as Norman finally gets his day in court and finally becomes the gay icon he was destined to be.

A truly historic piece of telly, then, and it bloody well better get that shedload of BAFTAs. Perhaps, also, this is posterity's verdict on Thorpe, a complex man but not a good one. But, er, let's not be dissuaded from voting Lib Dem anyway. I'm fairly sure that Vince has never had any bloody huge Great Danes shot to cover up a murky past, and I wouldn't put it past either May or Corbyn...

A Very English Scandal: Episode 2

"She's the love of my life."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

Another utterly compelling hour of telly, then, as things move towards their inexorable conclusion. Russell T. Davies, Stephen Frears and an utterly revelatory Hugh Grant are all spellbinding in this artfully crafted bit of telly, and we get to see along the way just how much human devastation is left behind by self-centred posh boy Jeremy Thorpe. And this from a series that has yet to even mention his probable cover-up of the vile Cyril Smith. And yet, as the opening scene reminds me, Thorpe was very much the sort of man of whose politics I tend to approve. I would have voted Liberal back then. Yet progressive politics do not necessarily stop one from being a complete and utter bastard.

Thorpe's desire to see Norman Scott is thrust in our face from the beginning, but we are allowed, at first, to wonder whether it all might perhaps be a joke; Grant plays this ambiguity well. Yet Ben Whishaw is equally excellent in what is, perhaps even more so than the first episode, a double character study heavily reliant on the abundant skills of both actors. Whishaw truly captures both Scott’s odd innocence and his quietly dignified insistence in a homophobic world (the wedding speech is deliberately both funny and undercutting that with horror at the sheer bigotry, very RTD) that his relationship with Thorpe was real and deserving of recognition, whatever the tragedies that befall him, from his abandonment by his wife (and the taking away of his child, the worst thing that can happen to anyone) to the tragic suicide of poor Gwen- why isn’t the fantastic Eve Myles on telly more often?

Much of the episode sees the possibility of scandal slowly simmering, with an attempt to raise the temperature by Emlyn Hooson here (Jason Watkins is bloody good) and a quiet word to the police by Reginald Maudling there. But there is real pathos as Thorpe genuinely mourns the sudden death of his first wife, and shares real affection with his second. Thorpe may be gay, and closeted, but the women in his life are more than just beards. People are complicated.

The whole business of the 1974 election is handled with admirable economy of storytelling, and then the final stretch running up to the attempted assassination is rightly played as the comedy of errors that it seemingly was, with a delightful appearance from Betty Spencer herself, looking perhaps just a little different. The whole thing is a gripping piece of telly, with script, direction and acting all first class. Er, but I have to say that’s an interesting choice of actor to play John Le Mesurier...

A Very English Scandal: Episode 1

"You've infected me, Jeremy, with the virus of homosexuality."

There's something about Jeremy Thorpe that fascinates more than any politician. Perhaps I, as a fairly core Liberal Democrat voter, find him more interesting than those who forget the party exists, but he's the dark heart of liberalism, much as his views and political principles were admirable. Superficial, showy, and worst of all covering up the evils committed by the loathsome Cyril Smith, he is hard to like for one so charismatic.

His story is also an interesting choice for Russell T. Davies. Oh, I know there's the obvious gay theme, but nevertheless RTD isn't usually one for politics dramas directed by Stephen Frears. It can't be denied, though; this first part looks as though he's been writing this stuff for years.This is, let's be clear, a bloody good piece of telly.

It's unusual for RTD in, perhaps, another sense; while the characters are naturally sketched superbly, there's more of an emphasis on plot and theme than would be expected. equally unexpected, though, is a stellar performance from Hugh Grant, full of nuance and far from the romantic comedies for which he is mainly known.

The tale is told through flashback, great dialogue as we would expect, and masterful characterisation. Ben Whishaw is superb as Norman Scott, and the ubiquitous Alex Jennings is well cast as Peter Bessell. Thorpe is an ambiguous character, no hypocrite in supporting the legalisation of homosexuality, but ambitious enough to seek a beard for a wife. And yet, should we condemn him when, this being the '60s, shocking levels of homophobia make it a necessary step to succeed in politics, unless you're a Tory yachtsman from Kent?

The inclusion of Leo Abse and the scenes around the legalisation of homosexuality are rightfully included as necessary context. The attitudes displayed even by those in support beggar belief, and show just how far the Overton window has shifted.

We've missed RTD ever since Cucumber; I'm glad his husband is in better health and am glad he's back. Roll on next episode.

Victoria: The Luxury of Conscience

"You have been a great prime minister!"

And so we reach the rather gripping season finale, full of incident and excitement as we knew it would be, and an impressive piece of writing in drawing all the threads together.

We start with family. Leopold is at court to make amends to a cold reception, but Vicky becoming deathly ill, although at first leading to clashes between Victoria and Albert, brings the whole family together. Except that Victoria finishes up by letting Lezhen go. Not because Albert says so, but because Victoria has outgrown her, It's an emotional parting.

We also have romance between Mrs Skerrett and Mr Francatelli, and a heartbreaking moment where Ernest has to dump Harriet rather than propose to her because his syphilis symptoms have recurred. Never mind that none of this happened in real history; it's damn good telly.

But ultimately the focus is on Sir Robert Peel and his repeal of the Corn Laws, egged on (not always helpfully) by all the characters we like and opposed rather rudely by those we don't. It's a final triumph for Peel and, indeed, for Nigel Lindsay. You'd never guess from his excellent performances on Victoria that he was Barry in Four Lions.

But there's a final shock, the killing of Edward Drummond which somewhat ruins the already doomed relationship between him and Lord Alfred; sadly, this is narratively the only way of concluding a same sex budding romance set in this era without it taking up a lot of narrative time and focus, but I have to say that it isn't very brave writing. Still, it's a lovely touch seeing the Duchess of Buccleuch being so sympathetic to poor Lord Alfred. And at least Drummond gets to live three years longer than he did in real life.

Victoria may be somewhat easy telly and shy away, perhaps, from doing things other than predictably, but I'm glad a series like this exists and I'll bev watching at Christmas.

Victoria: The Sins of the Father

"At least Ernst knows who his father is!"

So Victoria gives birth, rather painfully, and his father announces that "we have a Prince of Wales" in a rather excellent episode which is all about fatherhood and paternity. This is made immediately obvious not far in, as Albert's father pops his clogs and he has to be off to Coburg.

But the episode is also, of course, all about what no one in the 1840s would call post-natal depression; Victoria struggles to bond with little Prince Bertie, and is clearly profoundly depressed, something which no one- certainly not the men- seems to even acknowledge as a thing. It's only towards the end that formidable old battleaxe the Duchess of Buccleuch finally reveals that she also suffered from it in her past, unexpectedly bonding a little with Victoria.

But the big bombshell is when Albert learns that Leopold slept with his mother, meaning he may be Albert's father, something which disgusts him. This terrible secret sends him into despair to the point that he even gets drunk for the first time. His entire identity, it seems, and the very legitimacy of his children with Victoria, may be a lie. Still, this turns out to be good news for Mrs Skerrit, who in a neat bit of plotting manages to avoid being dismissed because of this. It's another impressively written episode.

Victoria: The Green-Eyed Monster

"Am I just an ignoramus who has to have things summarised by my husband?"

A somewhat awkward and directionless episode this time, it must be said, despite the clever use of Othello to examine the idea of jealousy between the royal couple. It doesn't really go anywhere or develop Vicky and Albert's relationship notably more than we saw last time.

Vicky suspects Albert of a somewhat unconvincing infatuation with Ada Lovelace, daughter of the notorious Lord Byron, when it’s clear that the nerdy prince is only interested in her and Charles Babbage’s difference engine. This contrived jealousy subplot isn’t really adding anything, and nor is the rehashing of the old debates about the impropriety of Vicky’s friendship with Lord M. Still, Melbourne doesn’t seem to be as well as he lets on.

Elsewhere we get hints of an upcoming affair between Ernest and Miss Cook, and the Coburgs continue to be annoying snobs. Sir Robert Peel continues to impress with his progressive attitude, a contrast to Lord M, while Vicky is pregnant with a second child so soon after the first.

Much though the A plot may be a damp squib, then, the long-term characterisation and plotting continues to impress, as do the performances and direction. I’m sure things will be back to the usual quality next week.

Victoria: A Soldier's Daughter

"It may be your regiment, Albert. But it is my army."

Victoria is back on ITV. I'm afraid I'm late to the party; I assure you I'll catch up quickly.

We pick up as we left off, with Vicky having just given birth to the future mother of Kaiser Bill. And the subject of patriarchy, always foregrounded when it comes to the hereditary principle, is uppermost not only in the incredibly sexist assumptions by the mean surrounding Vicky that she should retire to the nursery and leave affairs of state to the manly hands of Albert- and, indeed, that the scarcely born princess should one day marry the King of Prussia!

There's slow-burning stuff; Vicky struggles to connect with her daughter, both her relationship with Sir Robert peel and his premiership is soon to develop, and the imperious Duchess of Buccleuch arrives in the formidable form of Diana Rigg playing an old battleaxe, for Mrs Peel, incredibly, is now 79. Below stairs, the newly minted Mrs Skerrit is promoted, and Mr Francatelli is eventually persuaded to return.

But the episode, set as London awaits the awful news from Kabul of 4,000 troops being massacred, is about how Victoria always has to fight the patriarchal attitudes of the men who surround her, including her husband. It'll be interesting to see how all this develops, but for now this is a splendidly written, performed and shot bit of telly.

The Crown: Season 1, Episode 10- Gloriana

"You have more freedom than any consort in history. And you repay it by scowling and sulking like an adolescent."

As ever, the title of the episode is clever. It's interesting to consider it alongside the final scene, with Elizabeth dressed up all regal and told to be Elizabeth Regina, most definitely not Elizabeth Windsor. This is both the theme and the tragedy of both the episode and the series.

Elizabeth Windsor has her interests- keeping her husband happy with the man she loves and maintaining a happy marriage with her increasingly petulant husband (Phil ends the series being increasingly unlikeable, beastly to both Elizabeth and Charles without sufficient motivation). But it's in the interests of Elizabeth Regina to ruin all this in the name of a glorious yet powerless monarchy and an uncaring Church which seems to exist only to cruelly police people's sex lives. What happens to Margaret and Peter is unspeakably cruel and I can see how Margaret sees the chance to renounce her titles as a liberation- the chains may be made of gold but to be royal is to be enslaved, with no agency, privacy, dignity or power.

And it stays with you. In a powerful scene a desperate Elizabeth asks for advice from her uncle David, the only person alive who knows how she feels- and for once he drops the cynical mask and speaks honestly; there is no escape from these conflicts between person and monarch, not even abdication. These are complex, abstract themes, handled well in a strong finale.

There's another strand to the episode, though. The new PM, Sir Anthony Eden, at first seems much younger and more vigorous than his predecessor, but we gradually see the pills he's taking, the pain he's in and, in the final scene, the recreational drugs he's injecting; is he any more fit for the job than his predecessor was? The trippy final scene makes it clear that Suez is coming.  This veteran foreign secretary has been reduced to a drug-addicted shadow of a man just when it's all about to kick off.

The Crown: Season 1, Episode 6: Gelignite

"There's no such thing as a blameless party in a divorce!"

So this is the one where Margaret isn't allowed to marry the man she wants because he's divorced (his wife left him) and, frankly, because he's a commoner. And all because the Queen is allowed, through the Royal Marriages Act 1772, to veto any of her relatives.' marriages before they're 25. It's hardly fair although, of course, the same could be said of hereditary succession. Being in the Royal Family is a (very) gilded cage. To be royal is not to be free. We end with the two sisters very much estranged.

That takes up most of the episode, but we also get some foreshadowing of Nasser's nationalisation of the Suez Canal courtesy of Ed Stoppard, who played Brian Epstein in Cilla; Stalin dying in the background; and Princess Margaret delivering a speech in Rhodesia at the end which is staggering in its casual racism. And it seems that Philip is spending less and less time with Elizabeth.

Dramatic and unusually self-contained as the episode is, it feels very much like foreshadowing...

The Crown: Season 1, Episode 5: Smoke and Mirrors

"Borrow it, Ma'am? From whom? If it's not yours, whose is it?"

And so we come to the coronation, that watershed in British television history where a ceremony both elitist and inclusive (Phil let the TV cameras in) finally made telly a true mass medium. It was also, as we see here, a battle of wills between, inevitably, tradition- the Dukes of Norfolk have arranged all coronations since James II- and the radical modernising zeal of, er, Prince Philip. In 1953 he was very much the outsider, and has the fear of revolution of a continental royal..

It;s nice, then, that we begin with a flashback to 1937, as George VI lets little Lilibet help him with practising for his big day. It's also a brilliant showcase for David as a character- forbidden from the event, he may host a small party in Paris, mocking the ceremony as it is screened, but he is not so cynical as he seems; he is wounded that he never lasted long enough to have a coronation of his own.

This is also the point where Queen Mary dies, a very present link with the Victorian past. The same could be said of Churchill, who now sits during his audiences with the Queen. But the centrepiece is the ceremony itself, much of which is simply shown as was, complete with the Archbishop of Canterbury (Ronald Pickup) fluffing his lines. It's a deeply moving and powerful piece of mumbo-jumbo. But we end with Elizabeth and Philip's marriage in an awkward place.

More very good drama, as we can expect from Netflix. The Crown is, perhaps, in the "very good" caegory rather than being one of the all-time greats, but at the halfway point I'm very much enjoying it.

The Crown: Season 1, Episode 3- Windsor

"I know he's Winston Churchill and all that, but remember who you are!"

This episode plays a clever trick in constantly juxtaposing Elizabeth's first baby steps as monarch with the abdication, in flashback, and present day waspish emptiness of David, the former Edward VIII, with the now dying Queen Mary standing in judgement over everything. Alex Jennings is perfectly cast.

Elizabeth is now faced with the full weight of being Queen, dealing with her first red box still marked for "the King" and feeling nervous about her first audience with Churchill, who soon puts her right about how such things are done. But she's under pressure to ensure that the kids keep Phil's surname, and to stay in Clarence House rather than Buckingham Palace, both to please Phil and smooth her marriage, and both doomed, as we see.

It's interesting to see the character of Ernst Von Hannover, a reminder of the family's German roots who happily chats in German with Queen Mary. And it's ominous to see that Townsend's wife has left him; the affair between Margaret and himself, in the 1950s, is another thing that can only be doomed.

The unpopular David manages to do a little deal with his old friend Churchill, breaking the bad news about the surname and palace to the Queen in exchange for no cut in his allowance. Phil is not happy, feeling emasculated; these are days long before feminism. But most interesting is the chat between Elizabeth and David. He may have apologised to Albert for denying him an "ordinary" life, but Elizabeth has been denied one too. Although her definition of "ordinary" is not how most of us would use the word.

Good, well-constructed drama, and still gripping.

Victoria: Young England

"She is not a queen. And I am not a cow!"

The final episode of this excellent series, then and... yes, it's an ex use for me to start yet another new series now that this has finished, but that's for later. For now all eyes are on the Queen, who is visited by her uncles, the kings of Belgium and (the sinister heir apparent should she do a Charlotte) Hanover. Meanwhile, Albert's brother Ernest (not to be confused with the Duke of Cumberland) arrives back in England and proves not to be quite as much of a bounder and a cad as we had thought.

Vicky may be the most powerful woman who has ever lived but she nevertheless chafes under the many little tyrannies of pregnancy, something portrayed quite brilliantly by Jenna Coleman. But it's quite a sweet episode, with a happy ending to our downstairs romance, Vicky and Albert clearly being in love, and ending with the birth of little Princess Victoria, who will later beget Kaiser Wilhelm II. It's a low-key, gentle but nevertheless well written ending to a series I've rather enjoyed.