How was the West won on television? By strong women, of course. From Yellowstone and 1923 to The English and Landman (well, maybe the jury is still out on that last one), it’s the sisterhood doing it for themselves that gets stuff done.
The Abandons (Netflix) is the latest drama to capitalise on the trend, but with a twist. This time, the main worry is not men, the weather, or cruel fate. It’s another woman.
Gillian Anderson and Lena Headey play the warring matriarchs in Kurt Sutter’s drama. It is 1854, in Washington territory, and there is a rush for everything from grazing land to mining rights. Constance Van Ness (Anderson), in with the Vanderbilts, has a finger in every pie. She’s also numero uno in the hat stakes, her wide-brimmed number easily the finest in town (star perks).
But there is one stretch of land that Constance has been denied by the four families living on it. One has a ranch called The Abandons, so-called because the head of the family, Fiona Nolan (Headey), took in orphans.
For all that emotions run high in the story, The Abandons takes a long time to warm up. Twists arrive, all of which you will see coming over the horizon in plenty of time to put the kettle on. What’s missing is a spark between Anderson and Heady. They have plenty of opportunities to go toe to toe, but nothing much comes of it. Have they never seen Krystle Carrington and Alexis Colby?
Portrait Artist of the Year is the kind of programme Succession’s Logan Roy would hate. “What, you are actually asking people to watch paint dry? Where’s the f****** money in that?” he might say.
Just as well the producers had booked the actor who plays him rather than his small-screen doppelganger. Brian Cox was far more relaxed about the gig, to the point where he nodded off several times.
“I think he’s having a good time. Just a bit sleepy,” said one of the three finalists competing for a £10,000 commission.
Cox, it emerged, was doing six nights a week in the theatre. No wonder he was tired. Nor was it surprising that he had forgotten to bring his “special object” to be in the portrait with him. A team was dispatched.
“So nice to see three ladies in the final,” said Cox, taking up his perch on an orange velvet chair. Behind him were swathes of jute, symbolising his birthplace of Dundee, where his mother was a spinner in the mills.
His special item turned out to be another tribute to his mother — a small black leather handbag, a wedding gift from her prospective mother-in-law. Well-worn and obviously treasured, the bag stood as a silent testimony to a mother who, like the rest of the family, didn’t have it easy. “A holy relic,” suggested one of the judges. Cox agreed.
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Host Stephen Mangan kept everyone’s spirits up as the day wore on. Asked about Succession, Cox said he would love to be like Logan Roy, “someone who just tells you to you-know-what”. The character had “infected” him, he said. “I’d swear occasionally, but now I swear all the time.”
He was as good as his word when the portraits were revealed, but initially the quality of the paintings left him scrabbling for the right superlative. “Extraordinary. Wonderful, all of them.”
Taking in Lauren’s portrait, he said: “We Scots understand dourness, and she’s got mine rather well. Scarily well.” What’s the sitter thinking, wondered Mangan. “He’s thinking ‘Oh, **** off” said Cox to the biggest laugh of the night.
Say Nothing (Channel 4, Monday-Tuesday) was a drama spanning decades of the Troubles that centred on one of the era’s most shocking crimes — the “disappearance” of Jean McConville, a widowed mother of 10 from Belfast, wrongly suspected of being an informant.
The drama opens in 1972 with men in balaclavas abducting McConville in front of her children, then cuts to the calm of a hotel suite where Dolours Price (Maxine Peake) is being interviewed for an oral history project. Price was jailed for the IRA’s 1973 bombing of the Old Bailey, which injured more than 200 people.
The nine-part drama prompted deep disquiet in some quarters when it first aired on Disney+ last year. Some felt it was one-sided, particularly in the early stages, veering towards glamorising its subjects and trivialising their actions.
You can see their point in the scene where a young Dolours (Lola Petticrew, Trespasses) robs a bank while dressed as a nun. Scenes of shotguns and customers lying face down are played almost for laughs. Too soon? Yes. By about a century.
Another problem is the drift to and from McConville’s story. For long stretches, the narrative seems to forget her entirely. If what happened is meant to be a moral benchmark, the viewer could have stood to be reminded of that more often. That said, the penultimate episode takes up the McConville’s story again and doesn’t let go till the horrifying end.
Each episode concludes with disclaimers, pointing to the continuing controversy surrounding Say Nothing. Viewers will make their own minds up. What is never in doubt is the quality of the drama and the performances. Petticrew turns in another outstanding performance as the peace marcher turned terrorist, but it is Peake who dominates. Even though she spends most of her screen time talking into a tape recorder, you cannot take your eyes off her.
Mortimer and Whitehouse: Gone Fishing (BBC2, Sunday) is the most enjoyable travelogue on television by a country mile. That said, this eighth series of the fishing show has had a wistful, almost mournful air, as though we are saying goodbye.
Perhaps it’s the choice of locations, each holding a special meaning. For the series finale, Paul took Bob to Findhorn in the Highlands — “the prettiest river I’ve ever fished”.
Sunlight was splitting the trees — not ideal for salmon fishing, but glorious for everything else, including a golden eagle out for a spin. The weather prompted a chat about the importance of sun cream and hats, a reminder of how this show began, as two guys with heart problems learning how to lead healthier lives.
Lesson over, Bob went off to make a heart-healthy lunch of venison rolls.
Paul wasn’t sure about the “burnt bread”.
“No,” said Bob, “that’s a Scottish bun. What do they call it — burnt buns, dark buns, black buns?”
All over Scotland, viewers were shouting “WELL-FIRED ROLLS!”
After one bite, the pair were converts.
Gone Fishing isn’t just good television; it’s essential viewing.
No, it wasn’t a dream. Billy Connolly did indeed play Clarence the Glasgow angel to Gerard Kelly’s George Bailey in an It’s a Wonderful Life skit.
The scene featured in City Lights: Pure Dead Brilliant (BBC Scotland, Sunday), a tribute to what narrator Ashley Jensen rightly called “the pioneering sitcom that changed Scottish comedy forever”.
City Lights told the story of Willie Melvin, who dreamed of quitting his job to become the next Harold Robbins. Just one problem: he couldn’t write for toffee. Fortunately, his creator, Bob Black, could. The result was six series of City Lights, running from 1984 to 91.
The timing was perfect. It was the 1980s and Glasgow was on the up, just like Willie wanted to be. While he only managed a flat in Merchant City, the Dear Green Place hosted a garden festival and won the city of culture title, both affectionately mocked. As one character put it, “This city’s gone to the dogs since we got all that soddin’ culture.”
City Lights had a political edge that suited the Thatcherite times. Much of that spirit came from a cast steeped in radical theatre, Elaine C Smith among them. “Pure dead brilliant” was her character’s catchphrase.
What a joy to see Gerard Kelly in his City Lights element again — the sheer energy of the man. (Ditto the glimpses of a Glasgow that’s gone — Littlewoods!)
The film could have used more clips and fewer talking heads. An outsider’s perspective would have added depth - Ricky Gervais, say, who later cast Kelly in Extras.
Two years after Extras, Kelly was dead, age 51. The film ends poignantly, with contributors reciting the words of Willie Melvin by way of Gerard Kelly: “People are the lights of every city. To know the city you must know the people. The city merely reflects their brilliance. There are a million lights in Glasgow. I’m one. You’re one.”
City Lights was certainly one.
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