Sign of the Times V

This Life   BBC2

It happens every time I start tapping out the TV column on my keyboard, or when I bump into friends at the local watering hole. It's the same thing every time: for three months now, the clarion call `Are you going to review This Life this time?' has been coming at me from every quarter. It seems that, some way through the second series, it became a gay cult hit.

The BBC2 drama (the PR machine took great pains to scupper the `soap' or `sitcom' tag) first appeared on 18 March 1996 with an eleven week run, and centred around a flatful of twentysomething lawyers (whose surnames we never learned) based in London. The audience were drawn into a domicile where no–one stood still (or laid down) for very long. We were introduced to the cocky but nonchalant and ever so slightly homophobic Miles (Jack Davenport), the bellicose and tenacious Scot Anna (Daniela Nardini), Warren, the gay boy from the Welsh valleys, the anxious and inscrutable Millie (Amita Dhiri) and her benign boyfriend Egg (Andrew Lincoln). They all worked in chambers (although Egg soon chucked it in for a shot at writing before settling on cuisiner), came home, ate together sporadically, drank crates of wine and beer and weren't particularly merry. They thought about shagging quite a bit but didn't manage to get down and dirty very often; no doubt it would have creased their immaculate suits. Not exactly stirring stuff...

The title graphics were fleeting and facile, the opening score had eight bars of trippy–hippy guitars plus a soundtrack which heavily favoured Portishead, and the flotilla of directors used unorthodox and abrupt, sometimes intrusive, camera angles. The distinctive countenance and ambience of the programme was part of its magnetism. What also marked this prime time, mid–week programme apart was the almost anti–PC sentiment, with the mixture of Lad philosphy and `Girl Power' fomenting a potent brew.

When I reviewed This Life in May `96, I stated it had `burst out with a shower of publicity' but had `so far failed tragically to deliver.' I admit I have yolk all over my face: now, I'm a diehard fan. Of course, the reason for mentioning it in the first place was the gay flatmate: `This is a slice of life, and the kidney in this steak pie is Warren, an innocuous gay man who is closeted, cautious, Acedia personified. While all around him others are burning the candles at both ends, Warren sits behind his desk in his brown pinstripe suit and frets. I suppose at least he's not another accursed victim or queen who spends every weekend off his tits at the Paradise Factory.' He was the only character to endure therapy (no doubt due in part to his brother's vindictive reaction to his coming out) but Warren did buck up, and now holds a notable place in TV history as the first man to leave a room saying, `I'm going out to get some cock!'

But the silly boyo was caught cottaging, was fired by his alien–faced boss O'Donell (David Mallinson) then pranced off on a `World Arse Tour' with only a slight hint as to when he'll return. Unfortunately, Warren is now a distant memory, a friend who buggered off and doesn't send postcards. His gay space (and room) has been taken by his one–time lover Ferdy (Ramon Tikaram, brother of lesbian icon Tanita), a bisexual Mexican motorcycle courier (hello leather fans) who is currently shafting a strawberry blond plumber. But don't worry: they're both straight (which makes the sex scenes easier to play, apparently) and they're not getting on (you still can't have a happy gay couple on TV). Anna almost succumbed to a sapphic dalliance with instructing solicitor with Sarah (Clare Clifford, best remembered from Angels), but found that kissing a woman wasn't her cup of tea. I'm glad: it may have been a tad over–indulgent: Anna's never better than when she's trying to bag it, shag and throw it away.

A few peripheral characters make the interplay even more dynamic: the fiesty, irrepressible Kira (Luisa Bradshaw–White), her fidgety boyfriend Jo (Steve John Shepherd) and the prissy stooge Rachel (Natasha Little). And you remember little Kelvin Carpenter from EastEnders? He's popped up as a terribly camp disco bunny drafted in to bring Ferdy out of the closet.

The storylines — crafted by a plethora of writers, which quells any nauseating over–familiarity between the characters and an ensuing boredom for the audience — flip between the sublime and the ridiculous. It's everyday life, with the average twists and machinations we all encounter, especially living in a house with a shared fridge (packed with wine, peppers and little else) and a communal bathroom. They, like many of us, are treading the thin line between adult responsibilities and wanting to keep the party going.

But what has made the second series of This Life such a huge hit, especially with gay folk? It could be that gay issues are given a clear, loud airing in a way that is both sensitive and confrontational. It could be that it has been extended to 21 episodes, allowing a better chance to round out the characters: maybe it's this that has clinched it. Anna, who began as pugnacious, has developed immense strength and a rapier wit that covers a empathetic but susceptible heart. This veener has been engineered to cope with living in a man's world. She is the best friend and the worst enemy to have. Miles is now loathed by everyone I know. He's evolved into a sleekly snobbish egotistical hyprocrite who will smoke dope but berate those who bring it into the flat, who condemned Warren for being gay and treats Ferdy like utter shit, and who stabbed Anna in the back when she was fighting for promotion and then lied.

Egg (referred to by many gays I talked to as `sex on legs') is a sweet chap, tenaciously trying to improve his lot, a trusting soul who is blind to his girlfriend's roving eye. There doesn't seem to be a malicious bone in his body, and he's cool with everyone. Dykes want him as a friend, fags want him as a plaything. Millie — the prosaic `older sister' — who tires to instil a sense of culpability in her flatmates. She whinges and whines and wants to be a tad more reckless, but is a total control freak (just look at her desk) and is capable of bitter jealously. Kira's growth has provided a character that is an absolute scream, the fag hag in retro drag who plays Matchmaker and apposite Agony Aunt to all and sundry. She'd be first on your list for a party.

It could be that the post–teen, pre–forties audience has been gasping for a realistically written, well performed drama for aeons, and This Life has liberated them from the dire choice of viewing on offer. Neither the writers or the actors insult our intelligence which is rare in a televisual world packed with shows about pets, policemen and prizes.

Despite its nomadic scheduling, we never missed it and have surprised ourselves because we're actually bothered about what happens to these people: it's almost as if they are friends. When the end titles finish, (as with EastEnders but rarely with other programmes) there's animated conversation about the situations the characters are experiencing, with previaling advice and a sense of deprivation: another 7 days to go (although you can always watch the repeat...)

Maybe, in the true tradition of a cult hit, you could never quite put your finger on why it's so darned popular but 3.5–4 million people are turning on every week. That's an increase of 750,000+ on the first series. As yet, there is no definite news on a third series (the current run ends on August 7th) but rumours are filtering through that it may transfer to BBC1 to cash in on its success. I think that would cause its death knell (BBC2 is after all the home of the cult) but basically, I don't give a shit as long as it's on. Preferrably twice a week.

© Megan Radclyffe 2000

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