More Vikings! (There were a bunch last weekend, in Doctor Who.) These ones are rounding a Northumbrian headland aboard longships in AD866 at the start of The Last Kingdom (BBC2). Not over for tourism by the looks of things, now they’re mooning from the gunwales. Viking arses!
The Saxon boy shouting at them from the river bank, son and heir of the local king, needs to be taught a lesson, says a Viking called Ragnar, who talks like Peter Schmeichel. Oh, that sort of lesson, the sort that involves being decapitated and his severed head tossed on the ground at the gates of his father’s castle. Quite tough, the lessons round here.
The boy’s father doesn’t last much longer. In a battle he’s broad-sworded from behind though the neck, then nailed to a post through his mouth. That’ll teach him. It’s wise not to get too attached to anyone in The Last Kingdom. I’m sorry to see Matthew Macfadyen (the king) go, he was excellent. Fabulous battle scene, I love the way the Danes make a defensive wall from their stacked shields, parking the bus, medieval style. Then there’s another bus, hiding in the ditch to come at the enemy from behind. The Saxons don’t come out of it well (alive).
Apart from young Uhtred, who is spared, because he might be useful. A slave then, instead of the king he should be. But he’s treated well; there’s more to these Norsemen than just raping, pillaging, and mooning. Uhtred becomes more like a son to Ragnar, who killed Uhtred’s brother and father. But what boy wouldn’t want to be brought up a Viking? It’s a nice set-up, a young king lost in the confusion of war and the conflict between paganism and Christianity, a prodigal son who will return to where he belongs (also with a head to throw to the floor at the castle gates as it happens).
Uh oh, Ragnar has gone too – on fire, but still fighting as he burns. Mrs Ragnar also. Valhalla is filling up. Bad Sven has an eye bashed out of him. Ravn (Rutger Hauer!) has been blind throughout but still manages to steal the show.
The shadow of Game of Thrones hangs over The Last Kingdom. Comparison is inevitable, because of the hairy dudes with swords, daggers, cloaks, leather, mud, blood, the imaginative violence. The odd lady too – beautiful ones, wise ones, brave ones, bad ones and dead ones, obviously. Certainly TLK will appeal to a GoT fan, so just about everyone. But it’s not just an attempt at a Game of British Thrones, on a smaller scale, with a little less sex. Crucially, it isn’t pure fantasy, this is historical drama (based on the books by Bernard Cornwell). Dungeons there may be, but no dragons.
I wouldn’t bother taking notes, it’s not going to help you on University Challenge, but this is about a real time and a real place, some of these hairy dudes were actual dudes. Alfred’s going to be showing up, I believe – the Great (though not a great baker, no Paul Hollywood by all accounts). Most importantly of all, it’s a ton of fun.
My Son the Jihadi (Channel 4) is about a boy who doesn’t come back. Thomas Evans was the white British man who went to Somalia to join al-Shabaab. He played a leading role in some brutal attacks, acts of almost unimaginable violence, before being killed in a raid on a Kenyan army camp. Murderer, terrorist, he was also – to Sally Evans, in High Wycombe – a son. And to Michael, a brother.
What is most striking is how incredibly normal – and lovely – Sally is. She talks so frankly and honestly, searching for answers, trying to make sense of the senseless. How could this have happened to the little boy in the home videos, the one who did the glitter pictures that are still up in the kitchen?
Filming starts while Thomas is still alive. Sally would have occasional phone calls from him in which he would tell her she was a good mum, as well as bizarre calls with his new 13-year-old bride. At night Sally looks at the moon, as she and Thomas did when he was a child, wondering if he’s looking at it too. It might be the only thing they now share, but she hasn’t completely given up hope of him coming back, of seeing her boy again. Then comes the news that she can’t help feeling relief at, but which also leaves her “so empty, so lost, so overwhelmingly sad”.
If you missed My Son the Jihadi, because you were watching the Vikings perhaps, catch up. It’s an extraordinary documentary that leaves you feeling numb. A desperately sad story about one family; but also an important one, one of the big stories of now.
