The return of the bonkbuster
When I was growing up, Protestant homes owned a copy of the Bible, a book about God, but Catholic homes owned a copy of Rivals, a book about the competition for a regional television franchise in the Cotswolds. Both books, in fairness, evoke the words “Oh God, yes!” And now Jilly Cooper’s classic bonkbuster (Rivals, not the Bible) has been turned into a sexy high-budget television drama featuring charismatic actors David Tennant, Katherine Parkinson, Danny Dyer, Victoria Smurfit, Aidan Turner and, of course, all of their bums. Rivals (Disney+) is entertaining. One of the refreshing things about it is that it suggests sex is a fun, joyful and vaguely ridiculous activity (I mean, it usually involves comedy nudity) as opposed to a pained process that must be undertaken with erotic solemnity by moody, groaning hunks.
Baby Reindeer problematically blends fact and fiction
This is not a Christmas show for all the family involving an actual baby reindeer but a disturbing programme about stalking and assault based partially on the real-life experiences of its writer and star, Richard Gadd. It was excellently made and acted. And Baby Reindeer was also a legal minefield, because not enough effort seems to have been made to obscure the identities of real people from the online sleuths who now bedevil such productions. And so various people were inaccurately identified as the antagonists and harassed by online idiots and questions were raised about whether Netflix had been diligent enough. Counterpoint: it did well, so it’s possible nobody has had to learn anything.
RTÉ embraces culchiecore
RTÉ management stare up at a projection of the map of Ireland with which they are familiar. On it they can see the periphery of our great nation – the M50 – beyond which, presumably, lie Engerland, Americay and, maybe, at a stretch, Cork. RTÉ director general Kevin Bakhurst uses Google Maps to zoom out. Everyone gasps. The next slide shows strange drawings from a medieval bestiary featuring what look like the 2 Johnnies, Anna Geary with various farmers from Love in the Country, and some culchie children with agricultural toys on The Late Late Toy Show. The next slide is the “+” symbol. The next slide is a black-and-white photo of Dáithí Ó Sé and Marty Morrissey dressed in safari suits and holding nets, followed by the “=” symbol. The next slide just says “$$$?”
Franchises be franchisin’
You like Jedis? We got Jedis! Buckets of Jedis. You like Lords of the Rings? We got even more Lords of the Rings than you can possibly eat. You like superguys? We got so many superguys it would make you puke all over the place. Yeah, swallow that up, you greedy pigs. Oh yeah. You like that, don’t you?
Culchiecore, bonkbusters, murder, more murder and Nationwide: What I’ve seen on TV in 2024
Patrick Freyne: I am becoming a demotivational speaker – let’s all have an averagely productive December
Letters to the Editor, December 14th: On the Green effect, grief and the humble Brussels sprout
Wake up, people: Here’s what the mainstream media don’t want you to know about Christmas
Somebody Somewhere, a beautiful show about ordinary people, is cancelled
Look, unless it involves a Shakespearean actor losing his will to live in front of a green screen, the big TV companies just aren’t interested. Hannah Bos and Paul Thureen’s Somebody Somewhere (Sky Comedy/Now TV) is a simple, small-scale show about middle-aged friendship, ageing and bereavement in a small town featuring lovely, nuanced performances from Bridget Everett and Jeff Hiller. It’s sad and heartwarming and funny, and it makes me think about my place in the world. So we can’t be having that.
The celebrity-industrial complex chugs on
Celebs in the jungle nomming on gnats (I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here), dancing celebs hoofing in heels (Dancing with the Stars/Strictly Come Dancing), future celebs constrained in a compound (Big Brother) or amorous future celebrities boozing in beachwear (Love Island): the reality-TV-to-chatshow-and-back-to-reality-TV pipeline is as reliable as ever. Look at them there, being celebrated on appointment-to-view television as though the internet wasn’t invented.
An Irish accent is no longer a deterrent to fame, happiness and good mental health
Extraordinary (Disney+), Bad Sisters (Apple TV+) and Say Nothing (Disney+) all prove that Irish-accented telly can work for an international audience, whereas whenever people from this blighted isle spoke in the past, international audiences just heard a bunch of charming leprechauns saying “potato” or else some terrifying IRA operatives. (This is still the case when it comes to Say Nothing, in fairness.) The Irish have arrived and can now take their places among the streaming platforms of the world.
Say Nothing shows you can make prestige TV out of recent Irish history
Whenever RTÉ tackles Irish history in drama, it seems doomed to make an overly completist, Leaving Cert version that gives something to everyone in the audience. (Arguably, this is its job as national broadcaster.) Say Nothing, much like the original book by Patrick Radden Keefe, works because it doesn’t try to tell the whole story of the Troubles but instead recounts the specific story of a small group of IRA volunteers and how the moral consequences of their actions reverberate across decades.
People sure love murder
The number of crime documentaries on Netflix’s most watched tile – American Murder, American Nightmare, The Menendez Brothers, Coldcase: Who killed JonBenét Ramsey? Amanda Knox, etc – suggests to me that the biggest threat on our streets today are crime documentarians.
Sometimes remakes are good
I am specifically talking about Mr & Mrs Smith (Prime Video), which is in theory a remake of the hammy 2005 blockbuster starring Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie but which is in practice a bizarrely realistic drama about marriage in which the protagonists, Jane (Maya Erskine) and John (Donald Glover), happen to be hitfolk working for a mysterious, nightmarish organisation. It makes marriage look marginally more difficult than performing summary executions of political figures, but it’s really inventive, odd and unexpectedly moving.
Sometimes telly can be really inventive but also unpleasant
The Curse (Apple TV+), Nathan Fielder and Benny Safdie’s woozy, misanthropic sort-of satire of gentrifying real-estate yuppies is simultaneously one of the most originally shot, paced and scripted TV shows of the year and one of the shows I enjoyed least. I’m kind of glad it exists, but I have no idea what the creators are trying to say or what I feel and think about it. I suspect they made it to upset me.
Sometimes you can’t watch things in Ireland legally for no apparent reason
Hey, Prime Video, where’s the third season of excellent comedy drama Hacks, you complete bastards?
The rise of Anthony Boyle
Sometimes he’s in a flight suit in the belly of a B17 bomber (Masters of the Air). Sometimes he’s in a frock coat murdering a president (Manhunt). Sometimes he’s wearing a 16th-century doublet and hose while investigating olden-days crimes (Shardlake). And sometimes he wears a stocking over his head while robbing a bank (Say Nothing). Such is the versatility of talented Belfast actor Anthony Boyle. Moments ago I waylaid my postman and began tugging at his unconvincing beard: “Are you Anthony Boyle?” I cried. And he was.
Honourable mentions for some other programmes I really enjoyed in 2024
Slow Horses, Evil, The Dry, Fargo, What We Do in the Shadows, The Red King, Mary & George, Good Boy, Silo, One Day, Ripley, Hellbound, English Teacher, Manhunt, The Franchise, Star Trek: Prodigy, Nationwide.
