London Fields # 73
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 23 December 2009
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
With news broadcasts full of stories of retail closures and impending strikes, it’s hard to summon up a spirit of seasonal bonhomie, despite the snow falling outside. Britain is still feeling the full brunt of recession, and as unemployment continues to rise, no one can be sure if they’ll still be in work in six months time. Such an atmosphere means that people seem to avoid unnecessary extravagances, so the great British public has probably spent more time staying in to watch television, or socialising in their own homes instead of pubs than at any time I can recall.
2009 was the year of so-called stripped-programmed event TV. Following last year’s experiment with Criminal Justice, where a drama was screened over consecutive weeknights, this year saw Torchwood return in this format with Children Of Earth, while the same approach was applied at ITV for Collision. Of course, you could argue that this is no different to a nightly soap, but the 43 consecutive weeknights of HBO’s In Treatment demanded intellectual and emotional attention in a way Home & Away never could. With a run of late night screenings on BBC Two, this was the year when The Wire hit the UK mainstream, as you didn’t need a premium subscription or a DVD to see what the fuss had all been about. Although its timeslot and heavy schedule were hard to keep pace with, it still made a major impact - from parliamentary discussions over street drug trade to the creators expressing their annoyance that the BBC policy of subtitling every show they broadcast meant audiences didn’t have to listen to the nuances to pick up what was being said.
The effects of last year’s Manuelgate are still being felt. TV comedy, particularly on the BBC, was visibly running scared, and most of the edgier material ended up back in the clubs, or online. This made Stewart Lee’s Comedy Vehicle especially groundbreaking; most of it was simply a man talking to an audience, in a way perhaps not seen since the heyday of Dave Allen, but this wasn’t about simple jokes. Lee’s lengthy polemics were both witty and vicious and were intermingled with some sharp sketches to illustrate the point. On the other extreme was Miranda; this wasn’t to my taste, but I had to admire they way it attempted to revive the sitcom format of the ‘70s, albeit with perhaps more innocence, but additional Brechtian breaking of the fourth wall. It has been recommissioned; Lee has not. The wowsers also attacked The Thick Of It - its jump from satellite to terrestrial broadcast led to complaints about the wonderfully vivid swearing. Psychoville saw half of The League Of Gentlemen return, while the axed Pulling signed off with a one-off special, and then won even more awards; Sharon Horgan reappeared in Free Agents on Channel 4.
The influence of Skins continues to be felt. While the cast change had a better intent than the eventual reality, it could be argued that it led to both Misfits (E4) and Mouth To Mouth (BBC Three). Both these shows focused on a different central character of an interrelated group each week, so rather than a straightforward story arc, the back-story slowly becomes clear once you’ve heard the story from all the viewpoints. While Mouth To Mouth was literally a string of talking heads monologues, Misfits has a darker humour, and like Being Human nicely subverted expectations and genres. But perhaps the biggest shock on TV this year was Merlin which grew into a secret treat after a fairly risible first season, punching well above its weight in both in scripting and complexity.
The sound of 2009 was the motorik beat, perhaps ringing most clearly in the volte-face fortunes of The Horrors. It was a year that artists tried to work independently of the big labels, either by self releasing downloads (like The Boxer Rebellion or Spc-Eco) or by raising money for recording from fans through Bandstocks and the like (Patrick Wolf). Musical trends bubbling away included a predicted reemergence of C86, as well and a smattering undercurrent of prog, while electro went to mainstream chart success. The reunions continued - The Specials, Th’ Faith Healers, Spandau Ballet, The Comsat Angels, The Primitives, Blur, Chapterhouse, The Lotus Eaters and Ultravox – some as one-offs, and others as ongoing concerns. The charts themselves however were once again weighed down by the heavy influence of TV talent shows. Susan Boyle became a star, seemingly for having a talent more appealing than her appearance. But this also led to the popularity of truncated names (SuBo) in the tabloids, obviously predicated by LiLo (or was it South Holborn being better known as SoHo?). The cancellation of Big Brother after ten years could have been seen as the death of so-called reality TV, if over 20 million viewers hadn’t tuned in for the final of The X-Factor in December, leading to another battle for the Christmas # 1.
Following on from Echo & The Bunnymen performing Ocean Rain with an orchestra late last year, 2009 saw ABC, Elbow and James among others follow suit, with mixed results. Now it appears the trend may be headed your way too as The Angels are going to do this in Adelaide next April. Speaking of Australian acts, where were they this year? Wolfmother and Pendulum can still fill large venues here, and Jet’s take on Iggy Pop is a perennial radio favourite, but with the exception of The Temper Trap, where were the new Australian artists? I can only hope that they take advantage of the comparatively weak sterling and make a stronger contribution to events such as The Great Escape next year.
In London, it was the year that the Circle Line stopped going around in a circle, and that the River Thames disappeared from the iconic London Underground map. February snow brought the capital to a complete halt and the battle of the free evening papers led to the demise of both thelondonpaper and London Lite, while the Evening Standard was forced to become a freesheet. Political sleaze was back on the agenda, with parliamentary expenses claimed for everything from moat dredging to a floating duck house. In a year where only new shops opening were pawn brokers and even big chains like Borders went bust, there were some people who made it all bearable. In print and across his four TV series, Charlie Brooker once again was a brilliantly funny and scathingly critical voice of outrage and reason. On stage, with two entirely different shows, Daniel Kitson covered big topics, but with a human perspective. This clever, erudite and self-effacing chap weaved larger-than-life yarns which eventually revealed the heart-warming joy in the minutiae of the smallest details of everyday life.
© James McGalliard 2009
Showing posts with label Skins. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Skins. Show all posts
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
Wednesday, 27 February 2008
TV Club 18-35
London Fields # 49
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 27 February 2008
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
In the UK it’s not your 8 cents a day, but rather your £135 a year to fund Auntie. The compulsory TV Licence funds 75% of the BBC’s costs, from TV & radio to the news-gathers & websites. There’s huge pressure to show that this revenue is being used wisely; and the biggest visible shake up recently has been to digital station BBC Three. It’s aimed at the 18-35 market, is the UK home of Man Stoke Woman and The Mighty Boosh, and has just gone through a major revamp. With the BBC cutting back on its news services, questions are being asked about how the licence fee is being spent. Some may say the station is fighting for its very existence.
Spearheading the re-launch was Lily Allen and Friends, a chat show that was sadly awkward and uncomfortable to watch, and not because of the host. Elsewhere, the ‘light’ documentaries, which may cover serious issues, but tread a fine line with reality TV, continue as a mainstay. These have included the series Freaky Eaters, Sex With Mum and Dad and Can Fat Teens Hunt, and one-offs like My Big Breasts And Me, My Small Breasts And I, Me And My Man Breasts, Dawn Goes Naked, Dawn Goes Lesbian… Yeah, I know these sound made-up – sadly they’re all real.
Amongst all this mire, Being Human - the tale of a ghost, a werewolf and a vampire sharing a house in Bristol - shone. Although it had its light moments, it was no comedy. While it is post-Buffy, but in some ways it feels more like it could be a successor to the fabulous Ultraviolet, the 1998 series in which the Vatican were out to stop vampires (referred to as Code Fives or leeches) from creating a nuclear winter to claim the earth. The vampires of Being Human also feel that they’ve been living in the shadows for too long and, under the leadership of Adrian Lester, things are going to change. At a gathering he chillingly uses a little Blake to question whether evolution gives man any superiority: "Did he who made the Lamb make thee?" I couldn’t wait for the next episode; sadly at the moment they’re isn’t one. Hopefully the powers that be at the Beeb will see sense and commission this as a series. It was written by Toby Whithouse, who has also written for Doctor Who (the one with Giles, K-9 and Sarah Jane at the school), and for Torchwood.
Yes, Torchwood is also back, but it’s been rebooted so savagely you can almost see the tread-mark on the face. While the first series was almost Doctor Who without the Doctor but with added sex and swearing, the new series is about relationships. It’s like when James Bond briefly became a one-woman guy in the aftermath of AIDS. There’s romance, but very little sleeping around – it’s more about the yearning. The series began with the addition of James Marsters (Spike from Buffy The Vampire Slayer) playing, well, Spike from Buffy, except in name. It really doesn’t quite know if it’s Arthur or Martha. Speaking of which, Martha Jones has jumped from the TARDIS to appear in it too. There is an underlying story that a major invasion is underway, but as a story arc it’s suspiciously absent. So far it still fails to involve me; it’s lacking the emotion range of the revamped Who. But I’m still watching.
Over on ITV, Primeval returned, and it too has gone through a major reboot, this time by taking the central conceit of Ray Bradbury’s time-travel classic A Sound Of Thunder. For stepping into the past has changed the present, and only Cutter knows things are not the same. This has allowed the makers to tweak with the story elements, while keeping the core. But the problem with high concepts is that they can wear out rather quickly. The second season of Life On Mars showed strain, but sequel Ashes To Ashes has broken the towrope. This time it’s Keeley Hawes as DI Drake - sent back to London 1981 with a bullet (literally). It’s lacking the charm of its predecessor, kills any ambiguity of the conclusion of Mars in the first few minutes, and just feels forced. Sure it’s fun to visit the Blitz club, but would Steve Strange (playing himself) have worn ear monitors fronting Visage in 1981? But there’s a way out - it’s not the real 80’s, but Drake’s idea of it. But who do we blame for the squandering of the wonderful character of Gene Hunt? Or the soundtrack that feels trowelled on? And, worse of all, for it being dull??
Thanks then for Channel 4’s 18-35 channel, E4, and the second season of Skins. The first series went from the humorous to the very dark, but managed to maintain reality. Its high concept was the weekly baton changing of the focus of the unfolding narrative. The second season is darker, and so far has been telling character’s stories in doubles. If the arc of the first season was the fall of Tony, maybe the key to this one is his rehabilitation? Bill Bailey (complete with his dancing dog) appears as Maxxie’s father (continuing the theme of parents played by comics, mostly in non-comedic roles), while the school is presenting Osama The Musical. Once again, it’s a joy to behold intelligent programmes that don’t talk down to their audience. Why can’t all drama be like this?
© James McGalliard 2008
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 27 February 2008
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
In the UK it’s not your 8 cents a day, but rather your £135 a year to fund Auntie. The compulsory TV Licence funds 75% of the BBC’s costs, from TV & radio to the news-gathers & websites. There’s huge pressure to show that this revenue is being used wisely; and the biggest visible shake up recently has been to digital station BBC Three. It’s aimed at the 18-35 market, is the UK home of Man Stoke Woman and The Mighty Boosh, and has just gone through a major revamp. With the BBC cutting back on its news services, questions are being asked about how the licence fee is being spent. Some may say the station is fighting for its very existence.
Spearheading the re-launch was Lily Allen and Friends, a chat show that was sadly awkward and uncomfortable to watch, and not because of the host. Elsewhere, the ‘light’ documentaries, which may cover serious issues, but tread a fine line with reality TV, continue as a mainstay. These have included the series Freaky Eaters, Sex With Mum and Dad and Can Fat Teens Hunt, and one-offs like My Big Breasts And Me, My Small Breasts And I, Me And My Man Breasts, Dawn Goes Naked, Dawn Goes Lesbian… Yeah, I know these sound made-up – sadly they’re all real.
Amongst all this mire, Being Human - the tale of a ghost, a werewolf and a vampire sharing a house in Bristol - shone. Although it had its light moments, it was no comedy. While it is post-Buffy, but in some ways it feels more like it could be a successor to the fabulous Ultraviolet, the 1998 series in which the Vatican were out to stop vampires (referred to as Code Fives or leeches) from creating a nuclear winter to claim the earth. The vampires of Being Human also feel that they’ve been living in the shadows for too long and, under the leadership of Adrian Lester, things are going to change. At a gathering he chillingly uses a little Blake to question whether evolution gives man any superiority: "Did he who made the Lamb make thee?" I couldn’t wait for the next episode; sadly at the moment they’re isn’t one. Hopefully the powers that be at the Beeb will see sense and commission this as a series. It was written by Toby Whithouse, who has also written for Doctor Who (the one with Giles, K-9 and Sarah Jane at the school), and for Torchwood.
Yes, Torchwood is also back, but it’s been rebooted so savagely you can almost see the tread-mark on the face. While the first series was almost Doctor Who without the Doctor but with added sex and swearing, the new series is about relationships. It’s like when James Bond briefly became a one-woman guy in the aftermath of AIDS. There’s romance, but very little sleeping around – it’s more about the yearning. The series began with the addition of James Marsters (Spike from Buffy The Vampire Slayer) playing, well, Spike from Buffy, except in name. It really doesn’t quite know if it’s Arthur or Martha. Speaking of which, Martha Jones has jumped from the TARDIS to appear in it too. There is an underlying story that a major invasion is underway, but as a story arc it’s suspiciously absent. So far it still fails to involve me; it’s lacking the emotion range of the revamped Who. But I’m still watching.
Over on ITV, Primeval returned, and it too has gone through a major reboot, this time by taking the central conceit of Ray Bradbury’s time-travel classic A Sound Of Thunder. For stepping into the past has changed the present, and only Cutter knows things are not the same. This has allowed the makers to tweak with the story elements, while keeping the core. But the problem with high concepts is that they can wear out rather quickly. The second season of Life On Mars showed strain, but sequel Ashes To Ashes has broken the towrope. This time it’s Keeley Hawes as DI Drake - sent back to London 1981 with a bullet (literally). It’s lacking the charm of its predecessor, kills any ambiguity of the conclusion of Mars in the first few minutes, and just feels forced. Sure it’s fun to visit the Blitz club, but would Steve Strange (playing himself) have worn ear monitors fronting Visage in 1981? But there’s a way out - it’s not the real 80’s, but Drake’s idea of it. But who do we blame for the squandering of the wonderful character of Gene Hunt? Or the soundtrack that feels trowelled on? And, worse of all, for it being dull??
Thanks then for Channel 4’s 18-35 channel, E4, and the second season of Skins. The first series went from the humorous to the very dark, but managed to maintain reality. Its high concept was the weekly baton changing of the focus of the unfolding narrative. The second season is darker, and so far has been telling character’s stories in doubles. If the arc of the first season was the fall of Tony, maybe the key to this one is his rehabilitation? Bill Bailey (complete with his dancing dog) appears as Maxxie’s father (continuing the theme of parents played by comics, mostly in non-comedic roles), while the school is presenting Osama The Musical. Once again, it’s a joy to behold intelligent programmes that don’t talk down to their audience. Why can’t all drama be like this?
© James McGalliard 2008
Wednesday, 26 December 2007
Three Seasons In One Year
London Fields # 47
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 26 December 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
If you look at the news cycle, it was as though nothing of note happened in the world in 2007. Blair may have abdicated and passed the throne seamlessly to Gordon Brown (the invisible PM), but things seem mainly unchanged. Yep, there may well have been wars and disasters, but most of our attention was seemingly drawn to Celebdaq-style events.
Amy Winehouse may have ended the year Back To Black as the best selling album of 2007, but sometimes it was hard to remember that she was a musician (except when it came to odds on whether she’d show up at her own gigs). Pete Doherty, who must have been well aware of the pattern, then became part of the Winehouse saga when he paid her a visit. Earlier in the year the vexed question of whether the various z-listers had been racist came from the misleadingly named Celebrity Big Brother. And the year ended with outrage that Fairytale Of New York had to be censored for play on BBC Radio 1, but they soon backed down from their immovable stance. Were these all distractions from the real news?
Over on TV, Spooks has spent the last nine weeks preparing us for the breaking of ties with America, and Iran gaining nuclear capability. Is this TV drama preparing a complaint public for possible futures, a production trying to be gritty and edgy, or just another distraction? The TV networks have been a news story in themselves this year, with rigged results from premium rate phone lines. While this has spared us the late night horrors of Quiz Call and The Vault, over at Aunty it’s caused the BBC to suspend all competitions. Their studios must be overflowing with promotional tat, as they’re not allowed to give any of it away.
While some got hooked on Heroes, it faded into insignificance next to Battlestar Galactica, which, after stumbling slightly in the second season, came back with some of the tightest drama on screen this year. Summer Saturday evenings meant Doctor Who, which returned with a very strong season, marred only by a messy(anic) final episode. But the great British public were obsessed with reality shite like I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, talent contests like The X-Factor, or worst of all, series to cast West End musicals (Grease and Joseph And His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat). Yeach! Only The Apprentice seemed to rise above the mire, but even it had been dumbed down in its move from BBC Two to BBC One; its repetitive formula saved by the candidates and Sir Alan Sugar himself. Charlie Brooker continued to relentlessly dissect the medium in his weekly Screen Burn column for The Guardian, and on his own show Screenwipe on BBC Four. However the best thing on TV this year was Skins – proof that drama can be innovative, involving and original, even if its target is ‘only’ adolescents.
Summer was a lukewarm washout; Glastonbury was a mud bath, July’s Truck Festival was washed into September, and other festivals were postponed or cancelled, while some went bankrupt. In the high street, record shops went belly up, or were bought out, sending us back online to buy specialist items. There were some great songs this year, but few great albums. Many of the previous hopes released lacklustre second efforts; only Bloc Party produced an inventive and mature follow-up to their debut album. Similarly Devastations may have alienated some with Yes, U, but it was the most rounded original and consistent work of their career. But The Twilight Sad was easily the highlight of 2007; their debut album displayed a new original voice and their deafening live shows were each special, different and unique.
The introduction of a total smoking ban was the biggest change for gig goers, and caused problems in venues with a strict No Passouts policy, particularly where this was more a matter of protecting their high bar prices rather than anything else. A continuing pattern was the firework career arc - acts get too big too quickly, and may sell out large shows but can’t satisfy the crowds they draw. This hype also plays into the hands of the scalpers - and prices go up, and gigs are full of idiots who have no interest in the music. These large gigs then become a chore, so I’m almost glad that some acts never broke big so I can still see them in smaller venues. While iLiKETRAiNS’s debut suffered from being too much at the one pace, their live show is still great; Fields are another band that sadly didn’t cross into the big venues, but put on a great live show. Sadly no-one but me picked up Apartment’s The Dreamer Evasive and it seems that they’ve now gone into indefinite hiatus. But some of the best bands of 2007 were an older generation, raging against the dying of the light - James, Grinderman, The Blue Aeroplanes and Gallon Drunk.
2007 was the year summer never came; the year Tony Wilson died; a year that we focused on the wrong things; and a period when BBC 6Music lost many of the presenters that made the station special; a time that dumbing down seemed to be the order of the day. It was a year with few highs or lows. Yet some of the new acts I’ve seen recently at least give me more hope for 2008.
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 26 December 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
If you look at the news cycle, it was as though nothing of note happened in the world in 2007. Blair may have abdicated and passed the throne seamlessly to Gordon Brown (the invisible PM), but things seem mainly unchanged. Yep, there may well have been wars and disasters, but most of our attention was seemingly drawn to Celebdaq-style events.
Amy Winehouse may have ended the year Back To Black as the best selling album of 2007, but sometimes it was hard to remember that she was a musician (except when it came to odds on whether she’d show up at her own gigs). Pete Doherty, who must have been well aware of the pattern, then became part of the Winehouse saga when he paid her a visit. Earlier in the year the vexed question of whether the various z-listers had been racist came from the misleadingly named Celebrity Big Brother. And the year ended with outrage that Fairytale Of New York had to be censored for play on BBC Radio 1, but they soon backed down from their immovable stance. Were these all distractions from the real news?
Over on TV, Spooks has spent the last nine weeks preparing us for the breaking of ties with America, and Iran gaining nuclear capability. Is this TV drama preparing a complaint public for possible futures, a production trying to be gritty and edgy, or just another distraction? The TV networks have been a news story in themselves this year, with rigged results from premium rate phone lines. While this has spared us the late night horrors of Quiz Call and The Vault, over at Aunty it’s caused the BBC to suspend all competitions. Their studios must be overflowing with promotional tat, as they’re not allowed to give any of it away.
While some got hooked on Heroes, it faded into insignificance next to Battlestar Galactica, which, after stumbling slightly in the second season, came back with some of the tightest drama on screen this year. Summer Saturday evenings meant Doctor Who, which returned with a very strong season, marred only by a messy(anic) final episode. But the great British public were obsessed with reality shite like I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, talent contests like The X-Factor, or worst of all, series to cast West End musicals (Grease and Joseph And His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat). Yeach! Only The Apprentice seemed to rise above the mire, but even it had been dumbed down in its move from BBC Two to BBC One; its repetitive formula saved by the candidates and Sir Alan Sugar himself. Charlie Brooker continued to relentlessly dissect the medium in his weekly Screen Burn column for The Guardian, and on his own show Screenwipe on BBC Four. However the best thing on TV this year was Skins – proof that drama can be innovative, involving and original, even if its target is ‘only’ adolescents.
Summer was a lukewarm washout; Glastonbury was a mud bath, July’s Truck Festival was washed into September, and other festivals were postponed or cancelled, while some went bankrupt. In the high street, record shops went belly up, or were bought out, sending us back online to buy specialist items. There were some great songs this year, but few great albums. Many of the previous hopes released lacklustre second efforts; only Bloc Party produced an inventive and mature follow-up to their debut album. Similarly Devastations may have alienated some with Yes, U, but it was the most rounded original and consistent work of their career. But The Twilight Sad was easily the highlight of 2007; their debut album displayed a new original voice and their deafening live shows were each special, different and unique.
The introduction of a total smoking ban was the biggest change for gig goers, and caused problems in venues with a strict No Passouts policy, particularly where this was more a matter of protecting their high bar prices rather than anything else. A continuing pattern was the firework career arc - acts get too big too quickly, and may sell out large shows but can’t satisfy the crowds they draw. This hype also plays into the hands of the scalpers - and prices go up, and gigs are full of idiots who have no interest in the music. These large gigs then become a chore, so I’m almost glad that some acts never broke big so I can still see them in smaller venues. While iLiKETRAiNS’s debut suffered from being too much at the one pace, their live show is still great; Fields are another band that sadly didn’t cross into the big venues, but put on a great live show. Sadly no-one but me picked up Apartment’s The Dreamer Evasive and it seems that they’ve now gone into indefinite hiatus. But some of the best bands of 2007 were an older generation, raging against the dying of the light - James, Grinderman, The Blue Aeroplanes and Gallon Drunk.
2007 was the year summer never came; the year Tony Wilson died; a year that we focused on the wrong things; and a period when BBC 6Music lost many of the presenters that made the station special; a time that dumbing down seemed to be the order of the day. It was a year with few highs or lows. Yet some of the new acts I’ve seen recently at least give me more hope for 2008.
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 21 February 2007
We're Just Talking To The Kids
London Fields # 36
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 21 February 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
You can’t open a newspaper or turn on the TV in the UK at the moment without some new revelation about the state of youth in Britain today. So is there really something worrying about the environment that society has created for those growing up in urban areas?
Well, there are two big stories over the past fortnight that have given this discussion renewed vigour; firstly a series of inner city shootings, and secondly a report from UNICEF which placed the well-being of children in the UK at the bottom of a list of 21 industrialised nations.
The outward signs are that the UK is a gun-free nation. Bobbies still patrol the streets unarmed [if you don’t include nightsticks, pepper spray or bullet-proof vests] and unlike Australia, you’d never see a store security guard with a gun. In fact it’s a bit of a shock when you do see armed coppers, even if the sight has become more common in the post-9/11 society. Sadly though, this is becoming a dangerous anachronism. In South London, three teenagers have died from gunshot injuries over the past few weeks. The official response was a call to lower the minimum age for mandatory sentencing of five years if found guilty of being in possession of a firearm, but nothing much is said about the reasons for the behaviour.
None of this will change while guns are seen as a fashion statement. One summer’s afternoon while walking in Hackney, a kid of about fifteen caught my eye and then winked as he lifted his t-shirt to reveal a gun stuffed into the waistband of his jeans. And this was just a few days after an execution shooting in roughly the same spot. If they’re trying to frighten, they’ve succeeded.
The UNICEF report, Child Poverty in Perspective: An Overview of Child Well-being in Rich Countries, used forty indicators from 2000-2003 to determine "…whether children feel loved, cherished, special and supported, within the family and community, and whether the family and community are being supported in this task by public policy and resources". Sadly, its findings were used as a political mallet, rather than as a tool for much-needed change.
There was also a bit of an outcry about the content of new E4 television series Skins, which follows a group of fifteen and sixteen year old friends from Bristol, who quite possibly attend the school from Teachers. The furore was that teenagers were shown to drink, take drugs, have sex and generally try to enjoy being alive. The wowsers couldn’t see past this to find a fairly accurate picture of mainly likeable characters facing issues about discovering who they are and how they fit.
It’s an extremely well considered and intelligent piece of television, at a time when the dearth of new ideas in British dramas (see Robin Hood, Hotel Babylon, New Street Law, Party Animals, etc.) is more evident than any exciting developments. The audacious part of the series is that each episode is seen from the viewpoint of a different character. But instead of the hackneyed device of telling the same story over again from a different perspective, Skins has an ongoing narrative that is like a relay race, where each week one of them takes the story and runs with it for a few days. Clever too is the viral element behind the show. There is a MySpace page for each of the characters, and these are all ‘in character’. And you do get to care about them too; the unfolding story of Cassie is heartbreaking.
Maybe a lot of fuss can be written off as stereotyping or political football. But the other side is that you’re not reading stories about shenanigans on the streets of Somerset towns; no it’s Manchester and London. Because it’s true that there’s not much to do in the inner city; areas are heavily built up; it’s grey and brick with few parklands or leisure facilities. I suppose you can watch telly, or play computer games or even kick a ball round on the street if you can avoid the traffic. Even going to see a film will put you back about $25 so you may as well hang around with your mates and kill the time looking for something to do.
There are pressures to grown-up quickly too. The National Curriculum Assessments (SATs) has children and schools being graded and compared nationally at the ages of seven, eleven and fourteen. Maybe part of the problem is that there is no time left to be kids?
Day-after-day I hear of people leaving London as "it’s no place to raise a family"; but isn’t a society a reflection of its members? Things aren’t as bad as they are painted, but saying ‘things are OK but could be better’ is not going to win anyone’s vote. I don’t have the answers to any of the questions I’ve raised. But simply abandoning the ship will leave it to sink with many still onboard…
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 21 February 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
You can’t open a newspaper or turn on the TV in the UK at the moment without some new revelation about the state of youth in Britain today. So is there really something worrying about the environment that society has created for those growing up in urban areas?
Well, there are two big stories over the past fortnight that have given this discussion renewed vigour; firstly a series of inner city shootings, and secondly a report from UNICEF which placed the well-being of children in the UK at the bottom of a list of 21 industrialised nations.
The outward signs are that the UK is a gun-free nation. Bobbies still patrol the streets unarmed [if you don’t include nightsticks, pepper spray or bullet-proof vests] and unlike Australia, you’d never see a store security guard with a gun. In fact it’s a bit of a shock when you do see armed coppers, even if the sight has become more common in the post-9/11 society. Sadly though, this is becoming a dangerous anachronism. In South London, three teenagers have died from gunshot injuries over the past few weeks. The official response was a call to lower the minimum age for mandatory sentencing of five years if found guilty of being in possession of a firearm, but nothing much is said about the reasons for the behaviour.
None of this will change while guns are seen as a fashion statement. One summer’s afternoon while walking in Hackney, a kid of about fifteen caught my eye and then winked as he lifted his t-shirt to reveal a gun stuffed into the waistband of his jeans. And this was just a few days after an execution shooting in roughly the same spot. If they’re trying to frighten, they’ve succeeded.
The UNICEF report, Child Poverty in Perspective: An Overview of Child Well-being in Rich Countries, used forty indicators from 2000-2003 to determine "…whether children feel loved, cherished, special and supported, within the family and community, and whether the family and community are being supported in this task by public policy and resources". Sadly, its findings were used as a political mallet, rather than as a tool for much-needed change.
There was also a bit of an outcry about the content of new E4 television series Skins, which follows a group of fifteen and sixteen year old friends from Bristol, who quite possibly attend the school from Teachers. The furore was that teenagers were shown to drink, take drugs, have sex and generally try to enjoy being alive. The wowsers couldn’t see past this to find a fairly accurate picture of mainly likeable characters facing issues about discovering who they are and how they fit.
It’s an extremely well considered and intelligent piece of television, at a time when the dearth of new ideas in British dramas (see Robin Hood, Hotel Babylon, New Street Law, Party Animals, etc.) is more evident than any exciting developments. The audacious part of the series is that each episode is seen from the viewpoint of a different character. But instead of the hackneyed device of telling the same story over again from a different perspective, Skins has an ongoing narrative that is like a relay race, where each week one of them takes the story and runs with it for a few days. Clever too is the viral element behind the show. There is a MySpace page for each of the characters, and these are all ‘in character’. And you do get to care about them too; the unfolding story of Cassie is heartbreaking.
Maybe a lot of fuss can be written off as stereotyping or political football. But the other side is that you’re not reading stories about shenanigans on the streets of Somerset towns; no it’s Manchester and London. Because it’s true that there’s not much to do in the inner city; areas are heavily built up; it’s grey and brick with few parklands or leisure facilities. I suppose you can watch telly, or play computer games or even kick a ball round on the street if you can avoid the traffic. Even going to see a film will put you back about $25 so you may as well hang around with your mates and kill the time looking for something to do.
There are pressures to grown-up quickly too. The National Curriculum Assessments (SATs) has children and schools being graded and compared nationally at the ages of seven, eleven and fourteen. Maybe part of the problem is that there is no time left to be kids?
Day-after-day I hear of people leaving London as "it’s no place to raise a family"; but isn’t a society a reflection of its members? Things aren’t as bad as they are painted, but saying ‘things are OK but could be better’ is not going to win anyone’s vote. I don’t have the answers to any of the questions I’ve raised. But simply abandoning the ship will leave it to sink with many still onboard…
© James McGalliard 2007
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