"I THANK the Lord for all he has done for me. And I'm pleased
that the Queen is still going strong." I'm sure that most of us
would agree that it would be hard to express a more admirable
personal testimony - but might be surprised to learn that it was
uttered as the climactic acceptance speech in this year's
British Academy Television Awards (BBC1, Sunday).
It was uttered not by an actor, director, or producer, but by
the subject of the winner of the single-drama category:
Marvellous. I raved about it at the time, this
extraordinary presentation of the life of Neil Baldwin, who,
despite learning difficulties, has become Stoke-on-Trent's local
hero. It is a moving celebration of simple goodness; and for once
acknowledges that such virtues are consonant with committed
membership of the Church of England.
The BAFTAs give a fascinating snapshot of the state of British
TV as seen by its practitioners, who are the electorate that votes
on the nominees; and were curiously encouraging. Among the winners
were two other dramas based on episodes of contemporary life in
Britain: Murdered By My Boyfriend, the story of one
example of violence against women, and The Lost Honour of
Christopher Jefferies, which reconstructed the media
character-assassination of a suspect wrongly accused of the murder
of Joanna Yeates.
These are all serious works that hold up a mirror to our
national life. They are works that imply the need for change if we
are to make any claim to be a decent society. It is surely
significant not only that such pieces are broadcast, but that the
industry recognises that these are the best things that it does.
And that they are also superbly written, acted, and directed - and
compelling. Like the most serious of sermons, the grittiest of TV
programmes needs, in some sense, to entertain if viewers are
expected to keep watching.
In Monday's Coronation Street (ITV), the gay priest,
Billy, told his boyfriend, Sean, about his interview with the
Bishop, after their relationship had been outed in the local
newspaper. Once again, a soap opera is pushing a liberal moral
agenda somewhat in advance of general opinion; but here I think
they have got it right in presenting the general public (i.e., the
rest of the cast) as being unconcerned about their priest's
sexuality, appalled only by the Bishop's demand that celibacy is
the price Billy must pay to keep his living. The sentiments were
admirable, but the exchange was underwritten and displayed an
unrealistic level of naïvety all round.
There was a more nuanced exploration of same-sex relationships
in Sappho: Love and life on Lesbos, with Margaret
Mountford (BBC4, Wednesday of last week). A newly discovered
manuscript recorded unknown details of the great classical poet's
family life.
This was a superb programme, peeling away layer after layer of
misconception. Above all, it simply will not do to pigeonhole
Sappho as a proselytising lesbian as we would understand the term:
Mountford demonstrated that the love verses properly belong to
public ritual, addressed to the village women who would sing and
dance together at the local shrine. Once again, it's religion,
stupid.