COMPLICIT
Sunday,
Channel 4, 9pm
MEET
THE IZZARDS
Wednesday
and Thursday, BBC1, 9pm
FUNNY
BUSINESS
Today,
BBC2, 11:30pm
Paul
Whitelaw
If
I asked you to imagine Homeland with a steadier grip on
reality, I'd essentially be asking you to imagine a different show
altogether. It'd be like trying to imagine Doctor Who without
the sci-fi and time-travel elements (that would be quasi-surrealist
daytime soap Doctors, by the way).
And
yet I found myself unable to avoid that strained comparison while
watching COMPLICIT, a solid standalone thriller inspired by
the (obviously true) allegations that Britain secretly sanctions the
torture of terror suspects on foreign soil. Like Homeland, it
revolves around a troubled government agent and their obsessive
pursuit of a suspected terrorist supposedly planning an imminent
attack on home soil. It explicitly questions the dangers of following
a fanatical creed. And it endeavours to explore the mindset of
opposing forces, both of whom believe they have objective morality on
their side.
But
whereas Homeland embraces these themes with enjoyably deranged
brio, Complicit slowly coils around them with the crushing
intensity of a boa constrictor at feeding time. Abandoning the need
for gunfights and explosions, it instead focuses on what one can only
presume to be the real world of counter-terrorism: interminable,
sleep-deprived hours of painstaking investigation, and the
frustrating lethargy of every maverick agent's ultimate nemesis,
meddling bureaucracy.
At
its centre lies the thought-provoking question of whether, in times
of national crisis, our saviours might be forgiven – or at least
understood – for compromising their ethics to protect the greater
good.
David
Oyelowo stars as Edward, a taciturn MI5 agent who's spent years on
the trail of Waleed, a fanatical British Muslim played with
electrifying charm and intensity by Arsher Ali. Convinced that Waleed
is planning a ricin attack in the UK, he convinces his initially
hesitant bosses – who, in his view, have ostracised him due to his
ethnicity – to follow him to Egypt. When David first interviews him
in local police custody, Waleed alleges that he's been tortured, much
to the consternation of Stephen Campbell Moore's curiously
obstructive embassy bod.
Furiously
intelligent and cognisant of international human rights laws, Waleed
protests his innocence and runs rings around his hands-tied captors.
Fearing that the risin has already been shipped to the UK, David
gradually succumbs to desperate measures to secure the information he
needs. But has his own paranoia and persecution complex compromised
his outlook?
The
deliberate pace of this nuanced polemic may be too testing for some.
But I was captivated by its oppressively slow burn, which is
dramatically punctured by some explosive confrontations between
Oyelowo and Ali.
It's
a noble addition to Channel 4's sporadically laudable history of
pointed political dramas; indeed, it's precisely the sort of thing
they should be making more of.
Eddie
Izzard is going on a journey. Why? Because ever since TV decided that
we cud-chewing dimwits couldn't tolerate matters of science and
history unless they're filtered through a celebrity on an emotional
quest, that's what the likes of Izzard do.
It's
fortunate, however, that Izzard is more witty, charming and
inquisitive than most, thus transforming MEET THE IZZARDS into
one of the more tolerable examples of the genre. Never less than
fiercely ambitious, the cross-dressing, multi-lingual,
multi-marathon-running comedian is on a mission, not only to trace
his personal ancestry using his own DNA, but the global migration of
humankind as a whole.
In
an effort to vaguely locate ourselves towards the ancient African man
and woman who begat us all – as he says, there's one in the eye for
yer racist silly-billies – he zips around the globe at tremendous
expense, amusing Kalahari bush-people with his nail polish, chatting
with a man who's sired 93 children, and dancing with pygmies in the
forests of Cameroon. You know, as travelling UK TV presenters are
contractually obliged to do.
It
feels like a sprawling miscegenation of a survivalist documentary, an
extended Comic Relief segment, and an episode of Who Do You Think
You Are? that's sailed wildly out of control. But Izzard's
laid-back charm undermines the project's rather inflated sense of
self-importance, and further amusement is provided by his
enthusiastic sidekick, Dr Jim Wilson from Edinburgh University, who
appears to be angling for a starring vehicle of his own.
Izzard
crops up again in the delayed second episode of FUNNY BUSINESS,
in which the machinations of comedy agents and promoters fall under
scrutiny. But the focus is largely on the rise during the last
30-years of stand-ups earning ludicrous sums of money from sell-out
mega-tours, thanks in part to the heavily monopolised likes of Live
at The Apollo.
The
most fascinating portion of the programme by far is when a comedy
historian delves into the BBC's Written Archive – housed in a
modest bungalow in Berkshire, believe it or not – to contrast the
earnings of today's top comics with those of the heroes of
yesteryear. One particularly sobering revelation is that when Ernie
Wise died, he left behind an estate worth over just half a million
pounds. In 2011 alone, Peter Kay earned an estimated take of over £20
million from touring and DVD sales. As the formerly funny Boltonian
might himself remark, what's all that about?
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