Once upon a time it was quite easy to upset me. I was a thin skinned child, easily wounded by the thoughtless barbs of others. I did, to be fair, offer up a multitude of opportunities for mockery - I was small, skinny, bespectacled, terminally geeky and utterly unable to interact sensibly with the world. Also, brilliantly, I had the tendency, upon becoming upset, to turn bright red, opening up further hilarious opportunities for abuse.
As I have grown older, I have generally got better at coping with those who disagree with my (correct) perspective on the world. Real criticism - the stuff that comes from people who know me, that contains some grain of truth and knowledge - can knock me down, but that's as it should be. That's the kind of criticism that matters, and should be acted upon. But most attacks and arguments aren't like that. Most of the time, if someone is being nasty about me, it says more about the attacker than it does about me. Small minded childish insults are the province of those who lack confidence in themselves, or the intellect to develop a true line of thought. Except when I called that guy a penis in my last blog. That was just hilarious.
There was one thing someone said this year, however, that really annoyed me. It was not an attack on me, rather an attack on something I love. It was a simple sentence, and the sentence was this:
"TV isn't art'"
Oh dear.
Really?
Gosh.
TV isn't art...OK. It's 1954 then. Back to bed. Close the blinds. Not art. Right.
There is a discussion to be had about this which references the massive body of existing debate on the subject, going back to Benjamin through Duchamp and Warhol etc. But really... there's an easier and more interesting way of proving me unassailably right.
Here are four television shows I saw this year. They are art.
The Thick of It
I've always liked comedy when it tries to do something more than make us laugh. I'm fascinated by the tension between humour, which relies upon a subversion of expected patterns and outcomes, and political discourse, which must have clear structure and a definable point. Stand up comedians who have a point to make tend to get less funny as they get closer to making their point.
The Thick of It clearly has a number of points to make about the way Britain is run. Its comedy is a terrifying fairground mirror, showing us grotesquely distorted characters who manifest the truths we suspect about our so called leaders - they are selfish, duplicitous and basically unworthy of office. It has become celebrated for the character of Malcolm Tucker, the foul mouthed spin doctor brilliantly made flesh by a blistering Peter Capaldi, who confirms everything we think we know about how power really works.
In this last series, however, The Thick of It has become more than satire - more, really, than comedy. There are moments of darkness and introspection that you rarely see in any art form, let alone on television. Characters reveal themselves not as hilarious exaggerations of real life politicians, but as real people. They are weak, like we are. They are compromised beings, horrified on a daily basis at the gulf between what they thought they could achieve and what they are actually capable of. And they are terrified, finding themselves fleshy and vulnerable among the whirling steel cogs of media hysteria, political chicanery and pure dumb luck.
Beneath the satire, this is a psychological horror story, challenging us to watch the slow unravelling of human beings in a world more absurd than any science fiction dystopia. Brilliantly plotted, executed with masterful storytelling and beautifully played by its cast, The Thick of It can make you laugh while filling you with horror. Incredible stuff.
Him and Her
This is a hard show to recommend. I really didn't like it for the first three episodes, and this appears to be a common reaction. Whenever I tell someone to watch it they say pretty much the same thing as everyone else: "I tried watching one, but it just wasn't funny." And then I say, "Well, once you've watched about four, you start to get it." And they look at me like I am mad. You're thinking it now, aren't you? You watched one episode, and thought 'Nothing is happening and these people are annoying', and now you are thinking that I'm wasting your precious time when you could be Google Image searching random phrases to see what comes up. Is there such a thing as a nazi kitten? Did Zooey Deschanel ever do any nude work? Has anyone ever drawn a picture of the TARDIS control room in the style of Escher? Well, go look for those things if you must, but then come back here and let me try to persuade you to watch Him and Her.
Back? Right.
Him and Her was best summed up by Caroline thus: "They never leave the flat." Steve and Becky, the eponymous him and her, lounge around in a flat, occasionally getting ready to go somewhere but never actually achieving it. They are visited by a number of friends and relatives, all of whom exhibit some level of irritating behaviour. There is Dan, the dirty, bearded loner who lives upstairs and comes down to steal their food. There's Laura, Becky's evil sister who is bitchy and selfish while remaining convinced that she is the centre of everyone else's life. There's Paul, Laura's dim, trapped fiance. None of them are ever welcome, all of them are always there.
So far, so sitcom. People trapped with people they don't get on with, humour arising from conflict and misunderstanding. What makes this better - what will make you eventually realise the worth of this beautiful show - is the stuff under the surface. Like The Thick of It, this is a show with real characters - people who present a face to the world to avoid letting spill the dozens of competing desires within. The descriptions I gave above are all true, but they are only part of the story. Dan, for all his unsavoury, thieving weirdness, is a gentle, lonely character with real beauty in his heart. Paul is still, at his core, a child - rejoicing at Christmas, moved to angry tears when things go wrong on his birthday, utterly uncomprehending at how he has got trapped in an engagement with this horrible, stupid woman, Laura.
Ah, Laura. One of sitcom's great monsters. Her grating voice, her preening self love, her utter lack of perspective - all you can do when watching is urge the other characters to punch her in her stupid face. But then there are the little moments when the facade slips... when you sense a girl who doesn't know who she is, trying to construct herself through feeling attractive, planning a wedding, getting pregnant. She is a creature only defined when being observed by others, constantly trying to shape the way she is perceived by bigging herself up and putting others down. There is an incredible moment in series three when we are left alone with her for just a few moments. Unobserved, she slips into a brief, silent scream, tears held desperately in, before pulling herself back together so the world might continue to adore her.
These are characters in whom the tragedy and the comedy is the same: they cannot articulate who they are. All except Steve and Becky, who love each other because they've found somewhere they can be themselves: a tiny flat, with someone else who who wants nothing more than to eat in bed and watch Morse. This is a strange, brilliantly funny little show which will reward your time.
American Horror Story
Over Halloween I bought myself the entire series of this new American show and devoured it over the course of a week. It is mental. The tenor of the show, as you might guess from the title, is one of genuine spookiness and fear. Its episodes are perverse, darkly sexual and often horrific, yet shot through with a macabre humour.
I do not recommend it without reservation; there are some of you who may find its blend of psychotic eroticism off-putting. If you are unsure, try the following:
A fat man is staring into a mirror, in a darkened bathroom. He is shaking with fear. He calls out to his reflection. "Here, piggy piggy." Nothing. He gulps, and calls again. "Here... piggy... piggy." Nothing. But the third time is the one, isn't it? That's the one that summons... the thing. One last time, the fat man summons the courage. "Here... Piggy... Piggy." A sudden squeal from behind him. He spins around, mouth opening to scream. Out of the darkness lurches the squealing head of a pig, but it's body is that of a man. Before we can register the incongruity, the man-pig swings a machete, slicing into the neck of the fat man, severing his head...
Now, how did you find that? Was it
a) Thrilling and exciting - that sounds like the kind of mental stuff I'd enjoy in a programme.
b) Not my kind of thing - that's a bit too graphic for my tastes
c) I am a friend of the person who just read that. I found them unconscious on the floor in a pool of their own vomit, a look at horror etched on their face. What have you done to my friend? You sick, sick man!
If you answered a, then you will probably enjoy American Horror Story. If you said b, then probably not. If the answer was c, then you have a friend with a very low tolerance for fear. I would exploit this by hiding under beds, dressing up as ghosts etc.
Beneath the satire, this is a psychological horror story, challenging us to watch the slow unravelling of human beings in a world more absurd than any science fiction dystopia. Brilliantly plotted, executed with masterful storytelling and beautifully played by its cast, The Thick of It can make you laugh while filling you with horror. Incredible stuff.
The most intelligent commentary on Hackgate you will see, anywhere.
Him and Her
This is a hard show to recommend. I really didn't like it for the first three episodes, and this appears to be a common reaction. Whenever I tell someone to watch it they say pretty much the same thing as everyone else: "I tried watching one, but it just wasn't funny." And then I say, "Well, once you've watched about four, you start to get it." And they look at me like I am mad. You're thinking it now, aren't you? You watched one episode, and thought 'Nothing is happening and these people are annoying', and now you are thinking that I'm wasting your precious time when you could be Google Image searching random phrases to see what comes up. Is there such a thing as a nazi kitten? Did Zooey Deschanel ever do any nude work? Has anyone ever drawn a picture of the TARDIS control room in the style of Escher? Well, go look for those things if you must, but then come back here and let me try to persuade you to watch Him and Her.
Back? Right.
Him and Her was best summed up by Caroline thus: "They never leave the flat." Steve and Becky, the eponymous him and her, lounge around in a flat, occasionally getting ready to go somewhere but never actually achieving it. They are visited by a number of friends and relatives, all of whom exhibit some level of irritating behaviour. There is Dan, the dirty, bearded loner who lives upstairs and comes down to steal their food. There's Laura, Becky's evil sister who is bitchy and selfish while remaining convinced that she is the centre of everyone else's life. There's Paul, Laura's dim, trapped fiance. None of them are ever welcome, all of them are always there.
So far, so sitcom. People trapped with people they don't get on with, humour arising from conflict and misunderstanding. What makes this better - what will make you eventually realise the worth of this beautiful show - is the stuff under the surface. Like The Thick of It, this is a show with real characters - people who present a face to the world to avoid letting spill the dozens of competing desires within. The descriptions I gave above are all true, but they are only part of the story. Dan, for all his unsavoury, thieving weirdness, is a gentle, lonely character with real beauty in his heart. Paul is still, at his core, a child - rejoicing at Christmas, moved to angry tears when things go wrong on his birthday, utterly uncomprehending at how he has got trapped in an engagement with this horrible, stupid woman, Laura.
Ah, Laura. One of sitcom's great monsters. Her grating voice, her preening self love, her utter lack of perspective - all you can do when watching is urge the other characters to punch her in her stupid face. But then there are the little moments when the facade slips... when you sense a girl who doesn't know who she is, trying to construct herself through feeling attractive, planning a wedding, getting pregnant. She is a creature only defined when being observed by others, constantly trying to shape the way she is perceived by bigging herself up and putting others down. There is an incredible moment in series three when we are left alone with her for just a few moments. Unobserved, she slips into a brief, silent scream, tears held desperately in, before pulling herself back together so the world might continue to adore her.
These are characters in whom the tragedy and the comedy is the same: they cannot articulate who they are. All except Steve and Becky, who love each other because they've found somewhere they can be themselves: a tiny flat, with someone else who who wants nothing more than to eat in bed and watch Morse. This is a strange, brilliantly funny little show which will reward your time.
Laura - horrible, manipulative, a bit evil - arrives
American Horror Story
Over Halloween I bought myself the entire series of this new American show and devoured it over the course of a week. It is mental. The tenor of the show, as you might guess from the title, is one of genuine spookiness and fear. Its episodes are perverse, darkly sexual and often horrific, yet shot through with a macabre humour.
I do not recommend it without reservation; there are some of you who may find its blend of psychotic eroticism off-putting. If you are unsure, try the following:
A fat man is staring into a mirror, in a darkened bathroom. He is shaking with fear. He calls out to his reflection. "Here, piggy piggy." Nothing. He gulps, and calls again. "Here... piggy... piggy." Nothing. But the third time is the one, isn't it? That's the one that summons... the thing. One last time, the fat man summons the courage. "Here... Piggy... Piggy." A sudden squeal from behind him. He spins around, mouth opening to scream. Out of the darkness lurches the squealing head of a pig, but it's body is that of a man. Before we can register the incongruity, the man-pig swings a machete, slicing into the neck of the fat man, severing his head...
Now, how did you find that? Was it
a) Thrilling and exciting - that sounds like the kind of mental stuff I'd enjoy in a programme.
b) Not my kind of thing - that's a bit too graphic for my tastes
c) I am a friend of the person who just read that. I found them unconscious on the floor in a pool of their own vomit, a look at horror etched on their face. What have you done to my friend? You sick, sick man!
If you answered a, then you will probably enjoy American Horror Story. If you said b, then probably not. If the answer was c, then you have a friend with a very low tolerance for fear. I would exploit this by hiding under beds, dressing up as ghosts etc.
The premise of the show is simple and ingenious. A family is on the edge of being torn apart by internal tensions, not least of which is an extra-marital affair. They attempt to solve this by moving into the most haunted house in the world. Over the weeks they meet a variety of weird and wonderful characters who may or may not be the ghosts of previous residents. We slowly learn the history of the house, visiting moments from the past that shaped the ghostly present.
The show is bold, imaginative and compelling. Brilliantly, it pulls its triggers fast: a mystery set up in week one is likely to be resolved by week three, only to germinate more questions. The cast are clearly having a ball and play their characters just the right side of camp. Visually stunning, directed with real style, this is one of the most involving and exciting things I've seen all year.
Sherlock
It is almost a year ago now, but I remember it with clarity. I turned from the screen to my viewing companion and said, "We are, right now, watching one of the best things that has ever been on television." Sherlock series 2, The Reichenbach Fall in particular, demonstrated a deep understanding and love for the art form that is television. Elegant in construction, bold in execution, absolutely enthralling.
There's plenty of television I did not see this year.I will, no doubt, spend next year trying to catch up on Dexter, Mad Men, maybe even Homeland and Game of Thrones. This year, though, TV gave me enough sustenance to last a long, long time. It was beautiful, and it was intelligent, and it was art.
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