I’ll spare you my usual rant about BBC drama, as I’ve said the same things for years and, you know, boooorrrriiiing. (Summary: old-fashioned, twee, too much acting with a capital A.) And anyway, there is much evidence now that the BBC is shifting to a different approach. Its commissioning of super-scary podcast, The Case of Charles Dexter Ward and its follow-up The Whisperer in Darkness was a genius move; as was futuristic nature/sci-fi epic Forest 404, with all its spin-off talks and immersive soundscapes. In fact, there are several green shoots of ambition and creativity in BBC audio fiction, especially if you move away from the established radio drama slots to the places where independent producers can get freaky.
Murmurs is one of these places. A BBC Sounds series, it’s designed for podcast listening, rather than radio listening: meaning, on headphones in bed, rather than on speakers when you’re making the kids’ tea. Guided by head producer James Robinson and series consultant Ella Watts, the writers come from the BBC’s Writersroom and from established independent fiction podcasts. Co-writer of the hit audio drama Within the Wires Janina Matthewson pitched for one of the episodes and her idea was expanded into the shared universe of the series. Her premise is that our world brushes up against other worlds, and something is leaking through, affecting ordinary people and their lives. Matthewson also wrote three of the episodes.
The problem for the listener is that we’re not told whether or not the stories interlink. Murmurs is called “a new 10-part drama” one minute and “10 mind-altering tales” the next. Is this Tales of the Unexpected or Stranger Things? We’re never sure. Plus the supernatural effects of brushing up against these worlds vary wildly from one episode to the next.
Sometimes they’re an actual physical portal to another world, sometimes just a strange happening (a plant growing on a wall; someone gradually disappearing; a big dog appearing at the end of a bed). Would there be a Big Reveal, something that would explain everything that was going on? No. The series, which I expected to build to a climax, just kept restarting over and over.
This variety leads to an unevenness of tone. Though the audio “furniture” of the programmes is consistent – rewinding of speech, repetition of phrases, spooky noises – the way the stories are told is very different. Some episodes are straightforward drama, so we hear what’s going on as though we’re in the room; others are told through recordings – voice messages, digital recordings – as though they’re a “found” tale, pieced together later. In the first episode, we hear from a supernatural character. But that never happens again. The rest of the spooks remain mute.
Aside from this, there are some interesting ideas and lovely acting. Almost all the episodes have youngish women as their main character, and often, the plot concerns their life slipping out of whack. I really enjoyed episode six, about the homeless Germaine, and there were some gorgeous moments in episode three between Precious and her friend, who are investigating why a tree on their estate keeps moving around. Episode nine, written by detective comedy podcast Victoriocity’s Jen and Chris Sugden, concerning a strange woman who knows all the answers, is a perfect thing, a non-tech Black Mirror. Matthewson’s episodes, two, five and 10, are three parts of a single story and are also excellent, though the final reveal is underwhelming. (And why aren’t they placed one after the other, like a mini series?)
Am I being pernickety? A bit. There are lots of phone calls (this is an audio medium, after all) and it would have been nice for the producers to have invested in slightly different phone pick-up and cut-off tones, rather than use the same ones for every call. That’s how pernickety I can be. But it’s good to hear ambition in a project, to be overwhelmed by too many ideas and styles, a surfeit of notions and writing approaches. A stronger hand in managing audience expectations and in evening out the overall tone would have made this interesting series truly excellent.
Three unlikely partnerships that work well
Ricky and Tony, Pop Detectives
A brand new show featuring Tony Blackburn and Ricky Wilson of Kaiser Chiefs, this is a surprisingly delightful listen. The premise is that Tony is a pop detective and Ricky his protege, learning how to solve pop mysteries. First up: did Debbie Harry ever meet the serial killer Ted Bundy? They talk to a Bundy expert, Ricky enables Tony’s rubbish jokes (“I was talking to myself in Dorset and then they invented radio”), Tony teases Ricky (“That is the most fantastic story. Is there an element of truth in it?”) and, honestly, it’s lovely.
Cheerful Book Club
Launched last week, this is a spin-off from Reasons to Be Cheerful, the successful political podcast featuring broadcaster Geoff Lloyd and politician turned broadcaster Ed Miliband. The show will focus on nonfiction, as opposed to novels, so it really is a spin-off (Reasons to Be Cheerful examines political theories) and the new series kicks off with Rana Foroohar, who wrote Don’t Be Evil: The Case Against Big Tech. Foroohar is thoroughly engaging, pulling apart Apple CEO Tim Cook’s calls for a better education system in America, while Apple barely pays tax. Lloyd and Miliband are great, as ever.
For the Many
This political podcast from LBC has been going for a couple of years now and is presented by the station’s Iain Dale, who hosted the Conservative leadership hustings last year, and former Labour home secretary Jacqui Smith. Smith is Blairite and Dale a fairly centrist Tory (though pro-Brexit), so this is not one of those awful programmes where people shout their opinions at each other as though they’re bellowing across a crowded pub. Instead, there are some bawdy jokes, lots of political banter and listener questions answered with gossipy insight. Far more fun than you might expect.
