Squint at this when squiffy and you could be watching Howards’ Way
Faith’s got a new coat. this is important, because if you don’t keep track of what Eve Myles’s wineswigging lawyer and supermum is wearing in Keeping Faith (BBC1), you don’t have a hope of following the plot.
Make a note: when Faith’s wearing a blue jacket, it’s the present day. her snivelling husband, Evan, is in prison, and she’s defending a local woman on murder charges, while at the same time mixed up in blackmail and corruption with the local crime boss (anastasia hille).
if, on the other hand, Faith is toggled up in her yellow anorak, the one like a lifeboatman’s sou’wester that she wore throughout the first series, we’re having a flashback.
and if she’s not wearing either, she’s in the bath knocking back another bottle of Chardonnay.
she’s also got a new theme song, with lots of sad piano and a lyric about ‘clinging on to someone in the eye of a storm’. Whenever this plays, Faith has to gaze tearfully into the distance . . . even if she’s driving.
Don’t interrupt her, though, because she’s got a nasty temper. When drippy Evan (played by Eve’s real-life husband, Bradley Freegard) turned up after weeks without word, Faith welcomed him home by giving him a kiss, then
felling him with a headbutt. after that, she knelt on his chest and punched him half-comatose. then she opened another bottle of wine. Well, a girl can work up a thirst.
Mind you, even Mother teresa would feel like headbutting Evan. he wouldn’t stop whining. he even complained that when he jumped off the harbour wall at Port talbot, ‘the tide washed me back in’.
Now that Evan is in jail, Faith’s got another man called arthur lodging with her and sharing the childcare, but really she fancies the local bad lad, steve.
Evan, arthur and steve are all jowly and stubbly, middle-aged identi-blokes. it’s a pity they don’t wear distinctive clothes, to help us tell them apart, but the wardrobe budget for this season has gone on Faith’s blue jacket.
the cheapness is part of the appeal — along with the impenetrable plot and long, brooding silences. auntie Beeb has always loved this sort of melodrama, with plenty of overwrought emotions, not to mention mad business deals.
One key scene, where Faith’s law firm was about to go under, consisted of nothing but glowering looks and sudden outbursts of shouting in the boardroom.
Raise another glass of vino, squint at the screen and you could almost be back in the Eighties, watching howards’ Way.
at least the old shows had scripts. I Am Nicola (C4), the first in a trio of stand-alone playlets, was improvised by the cast, a technique that just doesn’t work on television.
actors love improv, because it gives them a chance to be creative and make up their own dialogue on the spot.
But with their brains fully occupied with what they’re going to say next, they’ve no room left for acting — so the words sound flat and desperate. Vicky McClure played a hairdresser with a weaselly, controlling boyfriend (Perry Fitzpatrick).
he told her what to wear and expected her to be his servant, then gave her the silent treatment or threatened to kill himself if she complained.
Quite apart from the unconvincing speeches, i couldn’t believe for a moment that McClure, the nemesis of all corrupt coppers on Line Of Duty, would put up with this creep for a minute.
she should introduce him to Faith’s husband. the two of them are perfect examples of how tV regards all men at the moment.