Disputed territory: drama and the Falklands

by Oliver Wake

Every major conflict in living memory has become the subject of drama almost the moment it was over. The Falklands war, which this month reached its thirtieth anniversary and is again in the news due to renewed tensions between Britain and Argentina over the islands, is no exception. Numerous plays about the conflict reached the stage and radio in its aftermath, but none caught the attention of the public at large. However, when television tackled the subject for the mass audience, the results were frequently politically charged and contentious.

First was Don Shaw’s The Falklands Factor, for the BBC’s Play for Today, which was screened in April 1983, less than a year after the war’s end.1 Shaw dramatised a previous cold war for the Falklands from 1770-71 to illuminate the history of the conflict and draw parallels with the recent war. The play strongly hints at the role of political expediency in each response to a Falklands invasion and, by showing how diplomacy – narrowly – averted bloodshed, questioned whether the same could not have been achieved in 1982.

The use of picture book-style animation to depict events around the islands and an omniscient narrator, making clear the now-and-then parallels, prevented the play becoming simply a dull spectacle of middle aged men in period dress arguing. It also benefited from the highly watchable presences of John Bird as scheming Prime Minister Lord North and Donald Pleasence as the distant and distracted Dr Johnson, who helped subdue the public’s lust for war over the Falklands.

This is England ’88 (2011)

by Emma Sutton

Writers: Shane Meadows, Jack Thorne; Director: Shane Meadows

After the transmission of This is England ’86 a mere 14 months ago, Shane Meadows returned to our television screens with the three-part series This is England ’88.1 Produced by Warp and broadcast by Channel Four over three consecutive evenings, the series brings us up to date with the lives of Lol and Woody and the rest of the ’83 gang before the final outing with the forthcoming This is England ’90.

Collaborating once again with Jack Thorne, Meadows sets the series amongst the backdrop of Christmas 1988. Lol (Vicky McClure) is unemployed, a single mother struggling to cope with psychological illness and sleep deprivation; Woody (Joe Gilgun) has a secure job, new girlfriend and a supportive family; Shaun (Thomas Turgoose) has found his calling studying drama, but destroys his relationship with Smell (Rosamund Hanson) after a moment of childish infidelity; Milky (Andrew Shim) is practically an absent father to Lisa (his child with Lol), only returning with money and the odd gift every once in a while. The gang is all present, with the notable exception of Meggy (Perry Benson), with Woody and Lol going their separate ways. The gang seems to have gone through yet another phase of subcultural mobility, but there is no hint of development or progression. With Lol and Woody previously supervising the clique almost as parental guardians, the split in their relationship, and in turn, their distance from the gang has stagnating effects on their individual development. The dynamic of the gang prompts a strong feeling of inertia, rendering the characters as progressively stale and caricatured.

Wear a Very Big Hat (1965)

by Oliver Wake

The Wednesday Play; Writer: Eric Coltart; Director: Ken Loach; Producer: James MacTaggart

The Wednesday Play (1964-70) is often cited in discussions of 1960s television drama, but normally with reference to only a handful of its most well-known plays. This misrepresents the series as a whole, which comprised over 160 plays. Even some of the dramas from the series’ most acclaimed practitioners, such as Ken Loach and Dennis Potter, are overlooked in favour of their bolder, more controversial plays, with preference given to those that still exist. The neglect of plays erased from the archive is understandable, but a lack of primary evidence is no reason to disregard them entirely. Their particular attributes and secondary evidence demonstrate that many of them are well worth our attention. For example, 1965’s Wear a Very Big Hat is fascinating both as an example of The Wednesday Play’s early attempts at youthful contemporaneity and as director Ken Loach’s first entry in the series.

Having launched prematurely in 1964 with “a stimulating season of international drama” – in reality, a string of orphaned productions from the cancelled Festival (1963-64) anthology and Canadian imports – it wasn’t until its first full series in 1965 that The Wednesday Play delivered on its brief for new drama reflecting life in contemporary Britain, as given to it by the BBC’s head of drama Sydney Newman.1 This change was effected by producer James MacTaggart, moving over from the cancelled and near-identical First Night (1963-64), and his story editor Roger Smith. The pair brought new voices and creative talents together with more experienced personnel to create a vibrant, modern series.

‘You dirty old man!’: masculinity and class in Steptoe and Son (1962-74)

by David Rolinson

Today marks the 50th anniversary of Ray Galton and Alan Simpson’s Steptoe and Son (1962-74): on 5 January 1962, the BBC broadcast ‘The Offer’, the Comedy Playhouse one-off that led to the series that started later the same year.1 It’s a landmark series, and it’s a shame that, like Z Cars earlier this week (2 January), its 50th anniversary hasn’t seen an official BBC commemoration, especially since repeats have done good business for BBC Two even in recent years.2 [Ironically, as far back as 1967, Dennis Potter defended TV from "familiar growls from those letter-writing viewers who regard any re-run of a programme which they have already seen as an affront almost too great to be endured": noting recent repeats of everything from Harold Pinter to Steptoe and Son, he noted that repeats "can be valuable", for programme-makers, for viewers and also for critics to "add a few second (or even second-hand) thoughts to their initial assessments".3 This note added 25 January 2012.] To be fair, such anniversary celebrations are usually reserved for programmes that are still ongoing, and the BBC has shown some awareness that Galton and Simpson are among the greats of British television writing – they did at least get their own Arena tribute not that long ago.4 The anniversary provides a welcome prod to revisit the series, and I’m sure I won’t be the only one starting a rewatch this week. In the meantime, this site now presents an essay celebrating some of the series’ ideas and themes, trying to do some justice to the quality and depth of the writing.

The Singing Detective 25th anniversary event (10 December 2011)

by David Rolinson

“in keeping with the modernist sensibility and self-reflexivity of Hide and Seek and Only Make Believe, the decision to root a view of the past in the experiences and imagination of a writer protagonist, emphasises the fact that, far from being an objective assessment, any perspective on history can only ever be subjective” – John R. Cook.1


This one-day symposium, staged by Royal Holloway University of London, celebrated the 25th anniversary of The Singing Detective (1986).2 It paid tribute to the serial’s “narrative complexity, generic hybridity and formal experimentation” and placed writer Dennis Potter’s contribution alongside the contributions made by his collaborators, several of whom were present: producer Kenith Trodd, choreographer Quinny Sacks and actors Patrick Malahide and Bill Paterson.3 Other guests included Peter Bowker (as a modern television writer inspired by Potter), plus academic speakers and, mixing practitioner and academic perspectives, Professor Jonathan Powell, who was Head of Drama at the BBC when The Singing Detective was made. This mixture of academic and practitioner perspectives has been a welcome and often rewarding feature of British television drama conferences in recent years: see, for instance, the conference proceedings published as part of British Television Drama: Past, Present and Future.4