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Alison Rowat’s TV review
ALISON ROWAT
SO much for everything in moderation. There I was, the entire fourth series of
ahead of me. It had seemed so long since the last season, a romp that went from the Moon landing to the arrival of punk.
Best ration this one out, said my TV-watching conscience; courtesy of The Germs there is not a lot new coming out till Christmas. Just one episode a week then, old school.
Six hours later I was still watching. I had fallen down the gilded rabbit hole that is Peter Morgan’s creation, a sucker once more for its blend of high-end soap opera, middlebrow history and low level naughtiness. On the latter front, how about Diana, offering to go Dutch on lunch with Camilla? “I’m all for sharing,” says the older woman. To quote that observer of the age, Dick Emery, sometimes you are awful, The
Crown, but I like you.
Since The Crown began I have swithered over whether Morgan hates the monarchy, or is the best thing that could have happened to them. So far in this series, hate seems to be winning. As the programme charts the entry of Diana into the palace, and Maggie takes the throne in Number 10, the royal family are portrayed as absolute horrors. How horrible? Well, it takes a lot for your average Scot to feel sorry for Mrs Thatcher, but after seeing her first trip to Balmoral, as dramatised, I succumbed.
Worse lay in wait for poor Diana, portrayed as an innocent entering a nightmare rather than a fairy tale. There were no “no go” areas as we saw the teenage Diana, left to rattle around the palace alone as marriage loomed, struggle with bulimia as a way of keeping some control.
Emma Corrin, as the princess, perfectly captured Diana’s youthful spirit and slowly crumbling optimism. Gillian Anderson made a not terribly convincing Mrs Thatcher, far too mannered, even for made-over Maggie, but otherwise everyone was on their game.
Even when The Crown becomes too silly for its own good – what is true, what is not? – it is rescued by the quality of its actors. One eve of wedding scene between mother
What’s the story?
Walking Britain’s Lost Railways.
You have my attention.
Britain’s railways were once the envy of the world. Around 5,000 miles of track were axed and more than 2,300 stations closed in the 1960s, mainly in rural areas, following the Beeching report.
Presenter Rob Bell – an engineer – has long been fascinated by these disappeared lines. This new four-part series explores lost routes and the stories of the landscapes and communities they transformed.
Tell me more.
The opening episode discovers how train travel unlocked large swathes of North Devon, including the glamorous Atlantic Coast Express service.
Scottish viewers won’t want to miss episode two (airing December 4) which charts the history of the former Callander and Oban Railway, a 70-mile route from the Trossachs to the west coast.
What does it entail?
Setting off from Callander, Bell explores the 14 years of determination it took to build the railway and how, with the help of local hero Rob Roy, it changed Victorian perceptions of the Highlands.
The episode takes in Glen Ogle, a valley likened by Queen Victoria to the infamous Khyber Pass, and Loch Tay, where a remarkable branch line was built to capitalise on the tourist trade.
When can I watch?
Walking Britain’s Lost Railways returns to Channel 5, Friday,
SUSAN SWARBRICK
ALISON ROWAT
THERE are some very old heads on young shoulders in America’s Sex Traffic Cops (Channel 4, Monday, 10pm).
“You hope that things will get better and they never do,” says one victim of exploitation. “And one day you wake up and it’s years later and you’re not even the same person.” Another tells how she agreed to marry her pimp after years of abuse. “Everybody needs somebody,” she says sadly.
Jezza Neumann spent three years making this film about a specialist police unit in Phoenix, Arizona, and it shows in the interviews with victims and the mostly female cops who try to help them out of the life. Trust has been gained where it might have been thought there could be none left, and the result is a documentary that is as moving as it is surprising.
At first, says one of the detectives, it can be difficult to persuade youngsters that they are the victims, and that they do not have to protect the men making money out of them.
Many are terrified of speaking out.
Cases need to be built though, which is where “catfishing” comes in. We see a group of women cops, having placed fake ads, texting and talking over the phone and internet, waiting for someone to “bite”. Plenty do. As one officer says, “There’s a lot of demand.”
So many portraits about crime and punishment are heavy on the former and light on the latter. In some ways, initial contact with victims is the easiest part for police. They then need to hope the case continues to trial and sentencing, which can take years. It is a a long, dispiriting business fraught with risk.
Neumann, director of the Bafta-winning China’s Stolen Children (2007), follows one such case from beginning to end. As he does so we see the changes in the young victim. Given support to rebuild her life and