This article was originally published in The Scotsman on 2nd March 2013.
MAYDAY
Sunday
to Thursday, BBC1, 9pm
BROADCHURCH
Monday,
STV, 9pm
BLUESTONE
42
Tuesday,
BBC3, 10pm
Paul
Whitelaw
Typical.
You wait ages for a British drama blatantly influenced by series one
of The Killing, and two come along at once. In a shattering
week for fictional close-knit communities, independent production
company Kudos stands back and watches as BBC1 and ITV pitch their
thematically identical Whoddunnits up against each other. Who will
win? YOU decide.
Putting
aside the curious question of why Kudos produced two such similar
dramas simultaneously, we first come to MAYDAY. Stripped
throughout the week for maximum “event TV” impact, it's a
broiling cauldron of grief and paranoia in which a picturesque
English village fails to adequately keep it together following the
abduction of its teenage May Queen (She's abducted on May Day. Hence
the distress signal “Mayday”. Clever, no?).
Given
the pagan trappings, it's inevitably doused in flecks of The
Wicker Man. Written by the team responsible for Whitechapel,
it also boasts a slightly heightened, skewed atmosphere, milking the
underlying dread of the balmy British sunshine for all it's worth.
Like
The League of Gentleman without the (intentional) laughs, it
delves forensically into a rural community full of dysfunctional
locals, including an unhappily married middle-aged couple, a teenage
“weirdo” in love with the missing May Queen's emo sister, a
cruel, smarmy git played by – who else? - Aidan Gillen (I swear he
gets these parts based on his smirk alone), and a man with mental
health issues who enjoys climbing trees.
Within
hours of the girl's disappearance, the latter's blowhard brother
inevitably gathers a vigilante posse – consisting of Phil Mitchell
and Hairy Biker lookalikes - and it's not long before escalating
torrents of suspicion are aroused behind twitching
curtains and the surrounding woods. Why are the menfolk behaving so
strangely? What's their connection to the missing girl? Why does the
wine-guzzling misanthrope have a hugely symbolic model village in his
attic? What's going on?!
Despite
over-egged moments of contrived weirdness – dismembered doll parts
and leering slow-motion feature heavily – Mayday is a
sharply-written, atmospheric pot-boiler bolstered by high-calibre
performers such as Sophie Okonedo, Peter Firth and, especially,
Lesley Manville.
Despite
its flaws, Mayday outdoes its close cousin, BROADCHURCH,
in which David Tennant's taciturn beard and Olivia Colman's soggy
orbs investigate the murder of a child in a sleepy Dorset community
riven with suspicion.
Written
by no-one's favourite Doctor Who scribe
Chris Chibnall, it makes good use of its coastal location, with the
camera sailing ostentatiously over precipitous cliffs, and vast blue
skies gazing down at the despair below. Like The Killing, it
focuses – albeit rather thinly – on a grieving family and the
emotional involvement of the investigating officers. It also tries to
say something meaningful about the importance of faith and trust in a
Godless universe. If anyone can carry that off, it's Chris Chibnall.
New
in town, Tennant's troubled character is strictly by the book,
whereas Colman's local police officer is warm and empathetic to a
fault. Why, it's almost as if they're a deliberate study in
contrasts. The friendly locals, meanwhile, aren't as they seem, which
is par for the course in dramas of this nature.
Stretched
over eight episodes, Broadchurch does tend to dawdle at times,
whereas Mayday assaults the same subject matter with more pace
and precision. And with a cast which includes the likes of Pauline
Quirke, Vicky McClure, Andrew Buchan, Arthur Darvill and David
Bradley, it sometimes feels like a star-studded tourist video for its
Dorset setting (tragic murder element notwithstanding, obviously).
Is
the war in Afghanistan a suitable topic for comedy? Well, of course.
Everything is a suitable topic for comedy, depending on how its
handled. The problem with BLUESTONE 42 – a new sitcom about
a British bomb disposal unit based in Helmand Provence – isn't that
it's offensive, it's that in going out of its way to avoid causing
offence it ends up as just another bland, obvious, middling sitcom.
That is, unless you're deeply offended by the very idea of an
apolitical comedy about an illegal war.
As
if eager to get the troubling issue of death out of the way as
quickly as possible, it kills off a character within the first five
minutes. But he's very deliberately portrayed as a roaring idiot who
the rest of the team don't really know or like, thus fudging the
issue of whether we're supposed to acknowledge the horrors of war or
not. Otherwise, Bluestone 42 is a determinedly light affair
focusing on the team's efforts to amuse themselves while stationed at
camp.
The
amiable Gary: Tank Commander has been here before, of course,
as has the estimable M*A*S*H. Suffice to say, Bluestone 42
isn't M*A*S*H. The lead character is a hapless, cocky Prince
William/Ben Fogle clone who thinks nothing of exploiting his rank and
supposed hero status to clumsily woo the attractive new female padre.
A sweary Scotsman and a tough, straight-talking woman are also
involved. It all adds up to very little.
But
given that it fails to portray “Our Boys” as selfless saints, it
will doubtless upset Daily Mail types across the land. So
that's something, at least.
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