Kosminsky proves that the devil is in the detail
‘It’s 2015,” went the scenesetting caption at the start of (Channel 4). “Men and women from all over the world are travelling to Syria to join the Islamic State.” This wasn’t a piece of hard-hitting reportage, however. It was fiction – albeit from renowned writer/director Peter Kosminsky, whose award-laden CV includes political dramas The Government Inspector and The Project, alongside superlative Tudor saga
Wolf Hall.
We followed four young Brits leaving their lives behind to fight for Isil. These weren’t the radicalised, maniacal monsters of Western myth. They were largely sympathetic figures, or at least recognisably human ones.
Jalal (Sam Otto) was trying to live up to his martyred brother’s eulogised reputation and had persuaded best friend Ziyaad (Ryan Mcken) to accompany him on this “adventure”. Single mother Shakira (Ony Uhiara) wanted to deploy her skills as a junior doctor in a Raqqa hospital. Idealistic teenager Ushna (Shavani Cameron) had her imagination fired by fierce online doctrines.
Shot in Kosminsky’s trademark gritty style, we watched the recruits cross into Syria under cover of darkness. Their initial excitement was soon quelled by the harsh realities of life under Isil. The men were swept up in the camaraderie of combat training before facing the sobering prospect of jihad, while the women were introduced to the society’s strict rules. Something tells me that Shakira’s medical ambitions will be thwarted and her sweet nine-year-old son Isaac might bring her to her senses.
The devil was in the details. The burning of passports meant no going back. Jalal reluctantly deleted photos of his mother from his phone because her head wasn’t covered. They struggled to eat without cutlery and use communal toilets. Flashes of UK street slang (“blud”, “innit”, “merk”) were a frequent reminder of their journey.
This wasn’t easy viewing but it was eye-openingly powerful. Based on exhaustive research and first-hand accounts, its authenticity shone through. The State’s four episodes are running on consecutive evenings – “mini-binge” scheduling which means viewers feel fully immersed. The cast were convincing, the stories compelling. This was the sort of bold programming that Channel 4 was founded for.
Is Kosminsky a terror apologist or was this a cautionary tale? I’d argue the latter. Either way, this unflinching series looks set to be one of the year’s most debated dramas.
‘Yum yum, pig’s bum.” “Winner, winner, chicken dinner.” Strictly Come Dancing’s former head judge has long been partial to a spot of rhyming slang. This was presumably the justification for commissioning moronic game show Len Goodman’s Partners in Rhyme (BBC One).
The opening credits looked cheap. The set looked even cheaper. Goodman was joined by four socalled celebrities: his old Strictly mucker Anton Du Beke (who was the best thing here), Eastenders actress Laila Morse, DJ Dotty (no idea) and comedian Matt Richardson (no idea either).
Together with two baffled members of the public, they stumbled through rhyme-related challenges in pursuit of the unimpressive prize: a holiday in Portugal. The loser got “a pen from Len”. Goodman trotted out catchphrases like an embarrassing dad doing a lame impersonation of the late, great Bruce Forsyth. “If you’ve got the time, Len’s got the rhyme.” Yes, we got the idea.
This excruciating format felt like one round from another quiz had been stretched across the entire half-hour. Mainly because it had. Anyone who’d seen Rhyming Street on Celebrity Juice, Wonky Donkey on SMTV Live or children’s show Chock-a-block would have experienced a shiver of déjà vu.
The animated graphics were reminiscent of “say what you see” stalwart Catchphrase. Indeed, the whole tragic affair had the whiff of outdated trash – a stench which only grew stronger when Mr Motivator popped up.
Goodman’s presence at the helm of this unholy mess is also a mystery. The 73-year-old retired from Strictly last year – so why quit a hit (this rhyming is contagious), then front a flop? He looked uncomfortable in the host’s role: reading hesitantly off the autocue, looking down the wrong camera, jollying things along with random whoops and waheys. He was overfamiliar with contestants and broke into dancing whenever there was an awkward pause. Which was often.
It was all so tired, someone should be fired. Told you it was contagious.
The State
Len Goodman’s Partners in Rhyme