It's a Sin: Part 5

 "I haven't handled this well. I realise this now."

RTD, you magnificent bastard. You have this grown man still teary an hour after seeing the episode, damn you. You get us to like these very human characters, and then you do horrible things to them.

This is an incredible conclusion to a sublime television drama that will be remembered through the ages. Keeley Hawes shows us exactly why she's there in what had previously seemed like a suspiciously small role as Valerie realises what's happening with her dying son ("I've got AIDS. I'm gay" all at once) and reacts with a heartbreakingly realistic sense of denial and a very specific type of bigotry, the bigotry of Middle England and the Daily Mail: the bigotry that sees itself as "common sense". RTD absolutely nails this attitude as Richie's parents whisk him off to the Isle of Wight and keep him away from the people he loves- and Ash, his boyfrend, is stuck in London.

It's not all about Richie's death: Roscoe starts to reconcile with his contrite father, shocked at the treatment of AIDS patients in Nigeria. Valerie says some interesting things about Jil having no life of her own, and we see at the end how Jill, a familiar face to the hospital staff, holds the hands of men dying from AIDS, whether she knows them or not. She's lovely.

The dialogue, the characterisation, the structure, all of them are perfect. The fact that we end not with Richie's death but, like a wake, a flashback to a moment that makes us smile. The lttle things about Valerie's reaction- and how Richie's dad, previously so firm abot Richie's career choices, just collapses emotionally. The skeweing of a sort of stiff-upper-lip English type of family emotion. And, of course, the cruel revelation of Richie having dies alone, kept away from his real family. Jill's parting words to Valerie are powerful and, I think, authorial voice: the real tragedy of AIDS is that so many men died in shame, shame of what they were, shame that is drip, drip, dripped on them by a culture that erases and centures any thing that does not conform to traditional family values. The curse of Middle England, that evil place.

It's a Sin: Part 1

 "You haven't got a parrot, have you?"

Russell T. Davies, after a few quiet years since leaving Doctor Who (alas, said quietness for tragic personal reasons) has not only been very much back over the last few years but is arguable at the very peak of his career right now. Cucumber was perhaps underappreciated, as was Years and Years, but few deny that A Very English Scandal was sublime. If this first episode is any guide (and I'm told reviews are raving from those who've binged the whole thing on All4; I'm soing it week by week), this could be the best thing he's ever done.

RTD has always said he wanted to return to gay themes in recent years, and this series confronts the elephant in the room: AIDS, which destroyed and traumatised a generation of gay men through the cruel double whammy of a horrifying disease and the added cruelty of society. I'm sure we will see much overt homophobia in later episodes (RTD has already shown with truthfully subtle dialogue the casual racism), but just as cruel is the fact that same sex relationships must be covert, informal, unrecognised, existing only at the margins of society. 

We see this, horrifyingly, in the person of Henry, played superbly by Neil Patrick Harris. He's lived with his partner (that unsatisfactory word) Juan Pablo for thirty years, a blissfully married couple in all but name. And yet, when they both become sick with this mysterious new gay plague (and yes, this all has resonance in early 2021, with our plague being less easy to ignore for most than the plague of forty years earlier), Juan Pablo's mother takes him "home" to Portugal and they must both die without seeing each other again. Equally horrifying is the sight of Henry, alone in a ward to himself, food left at the door, with no one approaching unless wearing what we have over the past year come to refer to as full PPE.

This episode is about introducing the characters, however, although not without a little foreboding. RTD is making us like these very human, flawed, likeable individuals before putting them through the wringer. We focus on three young gay men- Richie, student turned actor; Roscoe, who has fled the worst kind of religious fundamenalism with his Nigerian family set on "curing" him; and Colin, a shy young tailor from RTD's part of the world. There's also the very lovely Jill, the heart of the Pink Palace, but this episode shos lots of joyous, hedonistic sex, silliness and young people behaving as young people should, ignorant (and in denial) of what's coming.

Worryingly, we end with our three principals expanding on their dreams for the future. Let's hope at least some of them have one.

This is utterly sublime television. RTD makes it look effortless. I already feel I know and care about these people, and am worried.

Doctor Who: The Ghost Monument

"I can't remember who I borrowed them off now. It was either Audrey Hepburn or Pythagoras."

Ok, so they can't all be that good; it's Chris Chibnall after all. His first alien story as showrunner and we get a decent but fairly pedestrian tale about a rally between planets and the planet of the booby traps. Which is not to slag the story off; I liked it. I just wouldn't use a stronger word than "liked".

Still, aside from the story of the week, and those niggling worries about his talents for adventure storytelling and science fantasy concepts, that doesn't necessary make him a bad showrunner. Again he's showing signs of being good at developing characters, which could bode well- and yes, I will see Broadchurch soon.

Our TARDIS crew (well, not yet...) of four is looking curiously similar to Ian, Barbara and Susan in that we have a sort-of "grandfather"; I already like the sort-of-familial relationship between Graham and Ryan, and this is going to grow. Yasmin is perhaps not so well fleshed out at this stage (will she and Ryan have a will-they-won't-they like Ian and Barbara?) But there's plenty of time. And still, of course, Jodie Whittaker is the Doctor; as Mrs Llamastrangler pointed out, it's satisfying to her her saying "run".

Again her gender matters not. Well, except for a good old cheap laugh, that is: "Come to Daddy- I mean, Mummy". But she is completely and utterly Doctorish throughout, in circumstances that display that Doctorishness magnificently. But... Chibnall seems to have yet another bit of backstory for her, as one of the Shrouds of Doom refer to her as "the timeless child" and "an outcast", something which clearly strikes a nerve and which clearly is intended to be picked up on. This is clearly another arc about the Doctor's past; I hope it fits with all the others.

It's nice to see that this "jumping on point", while being carefully continuity-lite, isn't averse to the odd nod to the past such as the mention of Venusian Aikido (from Venusian nuns, apparently). And it appears that last week's baddies- the Stenza- may end up as this season's Big Bad. But all that pales next to the fact that the TARDIS is finally back, redecorated inside and out, after a nice little character moment where the Doctor is close to giving up hope but her three friends aren't. The new interior is awesome- I love the Heath Robinson style of ho it works, the lighting, and the biscuit. Will the Doctor take them straight home? Just as with Ian and Barbara, we know she won't.

And the new theme is also awesome, and the opening title sequence is rather Pertwee, I feel, as opposed to the closing sequence being very Tom. In fact, a lot about Doctor Who is awesome now; it looks so much more cinematic. I don't think the budget has gone up, but it gives the illusion of having done so. And if the scripts are merely good, so far that's ok.

Gunpowder: Episode 3

"I mean to die!"

So here we are at the finale, a somewhat tricky episode dramatically as we all know how it ends.The answer to this conundrum is, of course, to make it all about character. So again we get the contrast between Catesby and Cecil, although this time with very contrasting fates. Once again Liv Tyler's Lady Vaux acts as the conscience, perhaps even the chorus, but her role seems disappointingly passive throughout, and she's the nearest we get to a significant female character. But I suppose the nature of things in 1605 makes that difficult.

Much of the episode plays out the asymmetrically contrasting plottings of the doomed Catesby and the puppetmaster Cecil, leading to Catesby's inevitable doom and Cecil's inevitable elevation, and it's gripping enough to entertain despite the fact that we all know full well that Fawkes will be caught red-handed.

More interesting is the inevitable martyrdom of Father Garnett, whose tortuous death has been inevitable ever since he declared himself a coward last episode. Fawkes, though, comes across (deliberately, I'm sure) as an extremely weird individual, and even during his horrible torture it's less easy to feel sympathy. There's a lot of torture in this episode. There's a lot of torture throughout.

It's a decent little series, though; historical drama by numbers but sumptuously done as the BBC always do. It's just that, well, it doesn't really do anything new.

Gunpowder: Episode 2

“Kings are anointed by God!"

And so we come to the middle episode of three, linking the first episode and finale with lots of narrative and exposition and traditionally the weak link. I don't actually think that this is the case here though; after the exposition and shock therapy of the first episode we get to the fun of watching Catesby and Cecil move their chess pieces around, trying to outwit each other.

Much as Cecil is the cleverer and more evil of the two, Catesby's visit to Spain has him witness a poor Jewish lady be burned at the stake by the Spanish Inquisition who, for all their famed judicial due process, were obviously complete bastards. Catesby, though, is shown to be complicit. It literally sickens him but he doesn't complain, which reminds us that, wronged though he is, he'd be just as intolerant if his lot were in charge, even if he doesn't sit there like Mark Gatiss' delightfully evil Cecil and personally direct the torture. It's 1605 and religious tolerance hasn't been invented; everybody thinks they're right and everyone else is a heretic. people just weren't awfully good at not torturing people of different religions back then. This adds much-needed balance to the first episode, which seems less polemical in retrospect and has risen in my estimation.

But then the script goes to great lengths to emphasis the parallels between Catesby and Gatiss, with both of them given similar-sounding confessions as to how they neglect their sons. But Catesby's plotting has an air of doomed desperation while Cecil always seems assured, even when out-maneouvred by the splendidly-moustacho'd Constable of Castile and temporarily out of favour with a King James who wants to have his cake and eat it in much the same way as our current leader..

Liv Tyler comes to the fore as Lady Vaux reveals herself as the sharp-tongued Catholic moral conscience of the gentry, and we have the interesting little sub-plot on whether or not Father Garnett is a coward for not risking his own life. Knowing how TV dramas work, I fear that martyrdom may beckon for him next week, much as it appesrs to beckon for Father Gerard who is rather nastily tortured before he seems to escape in a somewhat confusing ending. Still, it's all very good this week.

Gunpowder: Episode 1

"Would you rather that I conform?"

Well. That was well-acted, well-directed and... violent. It's entertaining, historical religious persecution was indeed wrong but, well, it feels somewhat jarring for a historical drama to be so... polemical.

We begin with some text intro telling us that it's 1603, Elizabeth I has just copped it and King James VI of Scotland has gained a second throne and a chance to shag his way through the pretty young men of the English aristocracy, although not in many words. There are some nice shots of the Queen looking on in her stoic Scandinavian way while James flirts with his latest boy tart.

Then the story proper starts as a mass is disrupted by agents of an intolerant state and, with practised efficiency, a whole panoply of priest holes and mattress turning springs into action, and there follows a brilliantly tense scene in which the scarily young boy priest is arrested, and the very brave Lady Dorothy takes the flack as a furious, sword-waving Robert Catesby looks on furiously, and we know he's important because we know our history and we've seen Game of Thrones.

So, after being introduced to the sinister Robert Cecil- scion of the Marquesses of Salisbury, don't you know, and archetypal spymaster- we can only conclude that he could be played by absolutely no one other than Mark Gatiss, who has himself a minor bit of typecasting as sinister eminences grises in historical dramas but wears so many hats in the TV world that he can afford to be utterly unbothered. He is, of course, perfect casting. And we see him slowly manipulating the relatively tolerant James into supporting his sinister agenda.

And then comes the really nasty bit; Lady Dorothy has refused to plead- a guilty plea would disinherit her children- so she is stripped naked and publicly pressed to death. This is closely followed by the hanging, drawing and quartering of the boy priest, as graphic as these things get although at least we don't see the castration. This is all, of course, quite realistic, but an artistic choice has been made to dwell on the gory details. I'm not going to go all in and join the chorus of complaint here, but this is quite blatant in its didacticism, and that can be self-defeating in a drama.

More spying, skulduggery and misfortune for the persecuted Catesby brings us towards the end, and Guy Fawkes. Let's see where this goes.