COVID 19 Friday Five: More ISO TV

The A Word, season one

Following a previous post, I am still watching far more television that I normally would. But, hey, I think we've all agreed that nothing is 'normal' anymore.

 

5 More COVID-Friendly TV Series:

1. The A Word (BBC First) - With a punk, post-punk, new wave and indie classic soundtrack of the best music evs (download it from Spotify: it's six hours long) and the stunning backdrop of Lake District fells (often with Christopher Eccleston running over them), this drama looks and sounds exceptional. The titular A word is autism as a family comes to the realisation that their son has it, how they incorporate it into their daily lives, and how the wider community accepts it. It's a rather air-brushed version of reality (no one is mean or petty) but the dialogue (Peter Bowker) and character dynamics are superb. There are currently three seasons (2016; 2017; 2020) and I'm bereft now that I have watched them all.
2. The Capture (ABC iview) - In a society where we rely on surveillance to protect us, it is terrifying to think that it may be easily manipulated. This tense British crime drama written by Ben Chanan and starring Holliday Granger and Callum Turner is gripping, intelligent and startlingly contemporary. With a tagline of 'Seeing is Deceiving', it is the homage to Orwell's Big Brother that we've been waiting for. 
3. Dublin Murders (SBS On Demand) - A crime drama that follows in the footsteps of Broadchurch or Shetland with a mardy moodiness, intriguing writing, and enough flashbacks and plot twists to keep things interesting. Sarah Phelps has adapted Tana French's best-selling novels to a binge-worthy small screen format. However, none of the characters are at all sympathetic, and when one actor/character pretends to be someone else, viewers with prosopagnosia may lose the plot. 

4. The New Pope (SBS On Demand) - If you thought The Young Pope was bonkers (and you'd be right), wait until you see The New Pope. With the incumbent lying in a coma (providing several cameo opportunities for Jude Law), it is up to the cardinals to choose a new leader. After a few false starts they settle on John Malkovich who plays his part with delicious inscrutability. The serious side explores the dichotomy between those who think the Catholic Church represents compassion, and those who fear it has been irrevocably corrupted by sexual and financial scandals. Meanwhile, the throbbing soundtrack and camp, raunchy undertones entertain with twenty-first century sentiment. 
5. Sanditon (BBC First) - Andrew Davies has adapted Jane Austen's unfinished novel (her material covers half of the first episode) into a period drama which will delight Janeites and Regency fans alike. There is a typical predictable romance between an insipid female and a dull and pompous male, but all the subplots and actors are excellent. We have the injustice of female marital imprisonment, an employer's legal and moral responsibilities to their employees, a matter of race and preconception, and a rotten pineapple. All of these are framed by charming set pieces such as a picnic among the bluebells, a rowing regatta on the river or a cricket match on the beach. And Anne Reid takes over from Dame Maggie Smith as the indomitable dowager.

Upsetting the Apple Cart: The Orchardist's Daughter

The Orchardist's Daughter by Karen Viggers

Allen & Unwin

Pp. 389

I’m starting to think that every Australian novel has to revel in bleakness and misery. This one is set in Tasmania pitting loggers against environmentalists and featuring large dollops of abuse and small-town bigotry. There are three main narratives in the novel: Leon leaves his home (and his abusive father) on Bruny Island to work as a park ranger; Mikki is locked in to the takeaway shop where she works (for no wages) by her brother; and Max, a young boy who lives next door to Leon, is bullied by his father and his best friend’s big brother. All of them experience both physical and mental pain and cruelty.

Leon knows that he will be opposed by the loggers who work in the community. He tries to stay away from the politics, and make friends with the locals through playing Australian Rules football, but although he is one of the best players on the team, he is not accepted and receives hostile treatment on the training field.

The toxic masculinity extends to relationships off the field as well, and it is common knowledge that the star-player, Mooney, beats his wife, Liz. Leon is aware that the treatment he receives on the AFL field “wasn’t out of the ordinary. The guy was a prick.” But no one does anything about it, because they don’t want to upset the apple cart (pun intended). There is a cycle to this abuse, as sons learn behaviours from their fathers, and Leon is worried he may be trapped within it.

There are glimmers of hope and restorative signs within the novel. The book is divided into sections – Seeds; Germination; Growth; Understorey – and metaphors of sustainable logging, and of healing and regenerating through fire are clear. Another symbol of mistreatment is explored through animals. The boy who bullies Max and forces him into shoplifting, tells him he wants to feed his puppies to his German shepherd. Max loves the puppies although his father has drowned previous litters and threatens to do the same with these: cruelty to animals and children is well-known as the apprenticeship of a psychopath. Mikki is evidently on the side of the righteous as she fears for the eagles and the Tasmanian devils with their facial tumours. She and Leon attempt to save the devils, as the author explains that ninety percent of them have already been wiped out, and intimates that society needs to preserve the endangered; the weak and the defenceless. Mikki is herself vulnerable but she longs for a chance to explore and experience life.

Mikki gets a crash-course on awakening and self-recognition through literature. Geraldine, who works at the visitor centre, lends her novels and they discuss the characters: “Then you realise parts of their lives are just like yours. Different setting and time, but the problems are the same. You just have to be clever enough to see it.”

If literature is a way to encounter people and places to which we might not otherwise have access, then The Orchardist’s Daughter lets us into the world of small-town Tasmania where there is hurt and anger, but also happiness and friendship. The novel suggests that if the community nurtures the fragile seedlings, they will blossom and bear fruit. Everything needs space and time to grow, and we can choose which aspects of our nature we feed and nourish.