Oprah with Meghan and Harry (ITV) | ITVHub
The One Netflix
I Can’t Say My Name: Stammering in the Spotlight (BBC One) | iPlayer
PRU (BBC Three) | iPlayer
In the end, Meghan and Harry’s interview with Oprah Winfrey made Princess Diana’s 1995 encounter with Martin Bashir look like a tight-lipped model of restraint. Diana herself was referenced several times (one might say there were “three of them” in this interview). At times, Meghan “Marie Antoinette-ed” herself (“Just the two of us in our own backyard, and the Archbishop of Canterbury”). Not that any of this mattered when the talk turned to suicidal thoughts and racism (“Concerns and conversations about how dark his skin may be”). This, one realised, was as serious as it gets.
There was Meghan – pregnant, earnest – who, for some, can’t even wear a nice dress without inciting industrial levels of venom. Harry, channelling a young Henry VIII via Made In Chelsea, and stiff with unease. Oprah, a vision in pink, giving the huge international audience a dirt-digging masterclass, though at times the sycophancy was cloying. In this sprawling “nothing off-limits” interview, where were the questions the couple didn’t want to answer? It’s one thing to let silly stuff slide (There’s no way Meghan didn’t Google, sorry, “research”, her new beau). However, as race featured, why wasn’t Harry directly grilled about the well-documented dismaying episodes of his youth, if only to give him the opportunity to show how far he’d come?
In a way, this was a televised version of the ongoing culture wars, viewed through the prism of British royalty –as evidenced by another big TV-moment last week, when Piers Morgan (self-appointed Markle-heckler in chief) stormed off Good Morning Britain, and then left for good (for Morgan, it was from Megxit to legs-it, within 24 hours). But it was also much sadder and darker than that. As the trio sat in that marvellous borrowed Los Angeles garden, there was another backdrop at play: a global pandemic in which ordinary people have far more to worry about than whether a baby receives a royal title. Still, I believed them about the big stuff, and always did. Meghan was clearly under constant attack from certain sectors of the media, sometimes with gruesome racial undertones. It’s shameful that such scrutiny and vitriol can be applied to her and not, say, Prince Andrew. It’s horrible that the couple were clearly the most frightened about security (and doubtless still are). As the television event of the year drew to a close, I did wonder whether both the Sussexes would end up with no regrets (Harry truly is “just another celebrity” now – is he ready for that?). Still, some fizzing sticks of dynamite were always destined to explode.
The eight-part series The One (from Misfits’ Howard Overman, adapted from John Marrs’s psychological thriller) had a promising premise. Set “five minutes into the future” (represented by various fancy Grand Designs-type interiors, but otherwise ignored), geneticist Rebecca (Hannah Ware) ran a globally successful company that matched couples by their DNA. “A single strand of hair is all it takes to match with the one person that you’re genetically guaranteed to fall in love with, your one true love,” opined Rebecca at a presentation in full Ted talk-style flow.
Never mind the dubious science and scary ethics (anyone in the market for test-tube Tinder?), The One boasted a stellar cast, including Ware, Zoë Tapper as a detective investigating the death of Rebecca’s friend (Amir El-Masry), Stephen Campbell Moore as an immoral investor, Dimitri Leonidas as Rebecca’s ex-colleague (and, it transpired, her conscience) and Eric Kofi-Abrefa and Lois Chimimba as a couple mired in a DNA-inspired romantic meltdown.
So, there I was, feet up, with my family bag of Twirls, all ready to be wow-ed. However, though fun, The One was somewhat over-complicated, featuring veritable coachloads of characters and plot-strands. Love! Death! Science! Flashbacks! Skulduggery! Family Secrets! Drugs! More flash-backs! (or was that a flash-forward?), to the point where your head spun. I’m a highly trained binge-watcher, but even I might have lost consciousness a few times. If there’s another series (The Two?), a little streamlining wouldn’t hurt.
Presenter Sophie Raworth worked closely with BBC producer Felicity Baker for a year, without realising that Baker had a stammer, a fact that came up during the documentary I Can’t Say My Name: Stammering in the Spotlight. Baker said: “I’ve spent my whole life trying to hide it. Now I’m discovering that I’m not alone and I’m not the only one who struggles to say their name.”
Stammering, a surprisingly common neurological condition, looks nightmarish, especially as pointed out by sufferer Welsh Rugby international, Mark Jones, “The stuttering fool” has a long comedic history. President Joe Biden was shown describing his own stutter: “That feeling of panic you get, and then anger.” Sir Michael Palin, who drew on his father’s stammer for his character in the 1988 film A Fish Called Wanda, and now fronts the Michael Palin Centre for Stammering, recalled how, back then, it felt unkind to draw attention to it.
Among those with stammers who Baker met, there was art student Grace (“I’m not dumb, trust me”) and the rapper Big Heath, who was liberated by music: “I’m going to rap because I can’t talk.” At the end of the documentary, Baker, who’s had lifelong difficulties pronouncing her name, said it on camera. This was an enlightening documentary that communicated its message about communication difficulties with empathy and respect.
If you want to feel old (and I’m talking Methuselah-levels of ancient) then check in on PRU, a comedy pilot about pupil referral units, which is a collaboration between BBC Three and Fully Focused, a youth-driven production company that supports under-represented talent.
PRU, written by Alex Tenenbaum and Nathaniel Stevens, directed by Teddy Nygh, has already been commissioned for more episodes and you can see why. It’s as feral and mischievous as the young characters it portrays. The PRU-miscreants, Hanna (Bafta-nominated Kosar Ali from the film Rocks), Jaeden (Michael Boahen), Belle (Pia Somersby) and Halil (Jaye Ersavas), have charm to burn. They shamelessly wind up the long-suffering adults, including Kerry Godliman (After Life) and Tom Moutchi (Famalam; The Hustle): “Sir, give me one of them rollies.”
PRU is all about wild teenage energy – that heady cocktail of defiance and vulnerability – and inventively uses music, mainly grime, to create mood (a chair flies through the air to Coming In The Air Tonight). It’s 21st century Grange Hill meets Top Boy meets Bad Education. Is it too “young” for you? Maybe, maybe not. There were times I was confusedly cocking my ear-trumpet at the street dialogue, but I still enjoyed it. Go on, live a little, take a look.
