Talking-point TV let down by a hollow thesis
Betteridge’s Law is a hoary old journalistic adage that states: “Any headline ending in a question mark can be answered by the word ‘no’.” You know the sort of thing. “Is China more democratic than Britain?” (No.) “Have we found a cure for cancer?” (No, or you wouldn’t have framed it as a question). Such headlines usually top a scare story being oversold.
It was a similar effect with the title of Has Political Correctness Gone
Mad? (Channel 4). A shame, because this documentary was potentially more interesting than that. The selfconsciously provocative film found former politician Trevor Phillips arguing that fear of offending minorities has stifled legitimate debate. For liberals, this has backfired, leading to Brexit and the rise of populist figures such as Nigel Farage and Donald Trump.
To persuade us, Phillips deployed offensive terms: n---er, p-ki, spaz, faggot and queer. As such, it sometimes felt like a contrary editorial, concocted more for online outrage than serious consideration.
There were big holes in his argument. He ignored economic factors in the immigration issue, not to mention the distortions propagated by “fake news”. He didn’t make a distinction between free speech and hate speech. He mentioned in passing that Jeremy Corbyn was part of the PC backlash but never explained why.
Meanwhile, lazy views went unchallenged. When vox-poppers bemoaned, “We’re not allowed to say X anymore…”, I couldn’t help thinking “Why would you want to say X in the first place?” White middle-class men whinged that they were denied a voice. Nobody pointed out that the world is run by white middle-class men. A much stronger section saw Phillips tackled a convicted troll, who weakly justified tweeting rape threats as “banter”.
However, there were too many shots of Phillips striding purposefully down streets: a well-worn trope of factual programmes because it provides a sense of momentum during otherwise un-visual voice-over segments but one which grates when overused.
This was talking point TV – lively, engaging, doubtless a conversationstarter on sofas nationwide. But Phillips’s thesis was thin, repetitive and ultimately felt hollow. Besides, political correctness is just a muchmaligned euphemism for decency and kindness. For being nice, basically. Has Niceness Gone Mad?, though, wouldn’t be such a head-turning title for a documentary.
The Caribbean island of Saint Marie is becoming almost as dangerous as the county of Midsomer. As Death in Paradise (BBC One) reached the end of its sixth sundappled series, it has seen more than 50 murders. If you’re planning on holidaying there, I’d recommend a Kevlar swimming costume and comprehensive life insurance.
Following the exit of previous incumbent Kris Marshall, Ardal O’Hanlon has assumed leading man duties as the British cop abroad. Channelling Columbo with his bumbling manner concealing a sharp mind (the weather’s too clement for a beige raincoat), he tackled a political puzzle to rival Donald Trump’s hair or Jeremy Corbyn’s entire existence.
The favourite to win the local mayoral election was stabbed in a polling booth. Was one of his rival candidates the culprit? The ensuing investigation uncovered infidelity, heartbreak, debts and dodgy deals.
Death in Paradise is nothing if not deeply formulaic. Every episode is essentially the same. A murder happens. A small group of suspects are identified and interviewed. The plot thickens. Sleuth has a brainwave, then gathers the suspects in one place to unmask the killer and explain how it was done. Add some lilting reggae and hope nobody notices how lame it all is.
O’Hanlon occasionally recalled his best-known role, dippy Father Dougal from Father Ted – notably when his deductive process involved catching sweets in his mouth and a comical reconstruction of the stabbing. His desert boots and dishevelled shirts resembled a kindly geography teacher.
As always, our hero caught the killer (or killers in this case – each as unconvincing as the other) and made it to the beach bar for rum-fuelled daddancing before the credits rolled. This creaky, undemanding drama has done its annual job of providing sunny eye candy to see us through winter. Time for it to go into storage with woolly jumpers and high-tog duvets. Has Political Correctness Gone Mad? Death in Paradise