A review by Maryan
"The Glass" is set in the competitive environment of the sales department of a window manufacturing company.
Light and illumination play an important role in this mini-series: The backgrounds are held in various hues of blue, sometimes red, and we rarely see the full light on the central characters’ faces.
In particular Paul Duggan’s face is half in shadow nearly all the time, like his personality, which seems to be nice and cheeky at first, sweet and clever a bit later and cunning and evil towards the end. He turns out to be a traumatised, damaged character, who is striving for revenge at whatever cost to himself and those around him. As a result he is finally broken by feelings of guilt over his own reckless subterfuge, thereby becoming both culprit and victim of his own Machiavellian doings.
Joe is the ideal choice for this janus-faced role. He looks as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth with his sweet smile and clear-cut features. Only his eyes betray him when we catch him clandestinely watching a scene from behind a corner. In the beginning it seems as if he is an eager young man who primarily wants to get to know his new working place and everyone involved.
John Thaw plays his uncle, a tough, but fair business-man on the verge of retirement, who finally wants to get a life - and a family - outside the company, but his misconducts of the past are catching up with him and his life gets very difficult in every respect – and he eventually has to face the complications he’s always tried to avoid.
The actor, whose Inspector Morse is a household name, masters the challenge of this role with bravura. He offers all ranges of emotions, from bliss to despair, from rage to deep depression with utmost credibility.
The tension between the two adversaries develops slowly and everyone in their orbit is affected, both in business and in private.
Carol, played by Sarah Lancashire, is inevitably caught between the two men. Paul takes advantage of her fickleness and she almost pays too high a price for falling for his charm. I don’t think that any viewer would want to swap places with her for a second.
As the story unfolds, no-one gets away without becoming partial either to Paul or Jim. This is what makes the show so compelling. The tension is skillfully built up, before Jim reaches the conclusion that all of them will keep making mistakes and must try to become better. The circuit is complete when Jim repeats his very first lines in the concluding scene and his words apply to the business world as well as private life.
I was deeply impressed by the brilliant performances of particularly John Thaw and Joe McFadden. They delivered a masterpiece especially in the scene set in the deserted office, marking the turning point of the series.
When I finally switched off the TV after the last episode, I wished there there would be more to come.
TAGGART: Root of Evil....A review by Eilidh
But enough of the philosophical musing. That’s Inspector Morse’s domain, and the only thing Taggart has in common with Colin Dexter’s cerebral, contemplative detective is a quick temper and an ability to get results. See, Taggart doesn’t do crosswords or listen to opera; nor does his heavy sarcasm and pock-marked face bear comparison with Inspector Lynley’s good looks and charm; unlike Ian Rankin’s creation, the Edinburgh-based Inspector Rebus, Taggart has been relatively successful as a husband and father; and he wouldn’t contemplate following Detective Inspector Frost’s lead and breaking the law himself in order to catch a criminal. So just what is it that has made ‘Taggart’ a national institution (the late Queen Mother reportedly watched it) and a significant cultural export to more than eighty countries (complete with English subtitles for those who don’t speak Glaswegian).
Well, the writers come up with solid whodunnit plots for a start. Take as an example “Root of Evil,” the episode in which Joe makes his onscreen debut. Within five minutes of the opening credits, a couple of sanitation workers sloshing around in a blocked drain discover a severed head which turns out to have belonged to Willie Lomax (Gordon Kane), a local loan shark – a particularly unpleasant type of money lender who charges exorbitant rates of interest, and will happily break your legs if you don’t pay up on time. Very topical subject that, at the time, by the way. During 1988, when this ‘Taggart’ episode was filmed, the Glasgow papers ran a series of articles vilifying loan sharks, and it’s highly likely that the writers of the show found inspiration for their storyline there. Anyway, it’s not surprising then that there are at least eight possible suspects who could have had a hand in Willie Lomax’s demise. Shades of ‘Murder on the Orient Express,’ and it’s a complex enough plot to keep an audience guessing for the full ninety minutes. And that’s one of the key reasons why viewers tune in to a crime series: for that chance at the end of the show to turn to their spouse / partner / child / friend / dog and say “I told you so. I knew he/she did it.” How we love to be right, and to exhibit our intellectual superiority over a whole station full of baffled coppers. Take one intriguing crime, mix in some colourful suspects, add a judicious sprinkling of clues, and you’ve got a recipe for success.
The other thing that ‘Taggart’ does particularly well is characterization. The series is famous for attracting top-notch British acting talent – and has seen some up-and-coming Scottish actors passing through on their way to greatness. The roll call of famous names includes Robert Carlyle, John Hannah (pre-Rebus), and Dougray Scott. Alan Cumming appeared in the series when he was twenty-one and says, “A part in ‘Taggart’ was the big thing you wanted to get. When I got it, I was jumping up and down.” So, we can imagine Joe’s response when the STV talent scouts picked him out at age twelve from the ranks of the hopefuls at Holyrood Secondary School. A part in the most popular Scottish TV show of its day to start off his showreel – it possibly doesn’t come any sweeter than that.
From Innocence to Experience
And it’s a decent part, too. Joe plays David Shires who is the son of loan shark, Mick Lomax (brother to the headless corpse from the opening sequence). David’s mother has remarried and found respectability with a middle-class Edinburgh school teacher, Bill Shires (Jonathan Hackett), who is determined to remould his stepson in his own image, and minimize what he sees as the negative influence of the boy’s natural father. That’s a whole heap of conflict right there. Son resents stepfather, so spends forbidden time with his real father instead. Clearly a case of the grass often seeming greener on the other side, but David soon discovers that Mick is no safe, reliable refuge, not least because he’s happily ensconced in his bachelor life and even has to be persuaded by his mother to take David in when he runs away from home. It’s a truly poignant moment when David, seated on a bar stool, asks his father “Is it true that you lend money at really high rates of interest illegally? Is it true you have people beaten up who can’t pay?” The answer is yes, and it’s at that point we can see the pedestal start to shake. Disillusionment is always hard to witness, particularly when it happens to a child. It’s Taggart himself who sums up David’s folly, and his difficult journey from innocence to experience: when the boy confesses that he fabricated Bill Shires’ role in his father’s death because he “wanted to think it was him”, Taggart says “You certainly know how to pick your heroes.”
David Shires (Joe McFadden) looks up to his father,
loan shark Mick Lomax (John Kane)
Joe is perfect for this role. That sweet quality which would later attract the makers of ‘The Crow Road’ shines through here. David Shires needs to personify innocence to serve as a contrast to the corruption which surrounds him. Also, he’s being groomed by his stepfather for a place in a middle-class world and, like it or not, Joe’s angelic looks would seem to make that process more feasible than if he were a scraggy ruffian with a face like – well, like Taggart’s. Joe turns in a good performance here, conveying his character’s angst and confusion well, and hats off to him for that spot-on rueful expression in his last scene at the police station when Taggart sets him straight. The father-son-stepfather triangle turns out to be a red herring in terms of the plot, but nonetheless it proves to be an interesting detour into the realms of social class and dysfunctional family relationships.
The Family from Hell
A mention here for the other actors, since ‘Taggart’ is very much an ensemble show. Mick’s brother, Ken Lomax, owns a Glasgow nightclub and has traded in his humble beginnings for fancy Italian suits and an indoor swimming pool. Popular Scottish actor, Kenny Ireland, clearly revels in the part, and his character’s portly self-satisfaction strikes a deliciously Dickensian note. Celia Imrie plays his viper of a wife, Helen, whose glamorous façade slips a little at the end of the episode when she reveals incidents of abuse during her pre-marriage career as a hostess (in reality, little more than a glorified prostitute). Imrie is Joe’s aunt in “Root of Evil” and of course she renewed that family connection more recently when she played his mother in “Sparkhouse.” John Kane’s Mick Lomax is a shrewd operator, a loanshark who has no moral qualms about preying on society’s weakest for his own profit. At one point he asks Taggart “Have you thought of the misery there would be without us [loansharks]?” Taggart’s raised eyebrow says it all: some things just can’t be justified. Perversely, the crimes in this episode turn out not to be committed by disgruntled debtors. That’s where actress, Julie Adamson (Emma D’Inverno), and barbershop quartet singer, Robert Carrera (Peter Kelly) – both performing during Glasgow’s Mayfest – come in, and this does give Taggart’s sidekick, DS Mike Jardine (James MacPherson), a subplot of his own.
Showman Robert Carrera (Peter Kelly)
http://www.taggart-fanclub.co.uk/idparade.htm
However, I confess I found this storyline less interesting than the drama of the Lomaxes – truly the family from hell. It’s Ma Lomax (Irene Sunter), herelf a loanshark, who almost steals the show for me. One minute she’s lending twenty pounds (at an interest rate probably ten times that amount) to a downtrodden soul who needs new shoes for her children; the next she’s playing the respectable matriarch, distributing tea and cupcakes to her family in the living room. Mrs Lomax claims her sons are ‘good boys,’ but since she clearly lives without any kind of moral compass, how is that possible? For me, she is truly the ‘root of evil.’
“Coca Cola Roller”, 1988 Glasgow Garden Festival
http://www.clyde-valley.com/glasgow/garden3.htm
The City’s Regeneration
Glasgow really shows its versatility as a setting in this episode. This time the mean, gritty streets of Maryhill are contrasted with the leafier climes of the Garden Festival, the showcase event that kickstarted the city’s regeneration. And the Tron Theatre, home in this episode to sellout performances of an axe-wielding ‘Lizzie Borden’, is a nice reminder of the theatrical offerings available in Scotland’s second city. Even Taggart himself manages to take in a performance of the play, albeit in the line of duty, though one suspects he’s unlikely to become a Mayfest regular. The late Mark McManus is once again in fine form as Jim Taggart, spitting out sarcastic one-liners at every turn, and doggedly pursuing the clues even when that involves recalling over a thousand promotional Garden Festival handkerchiefs and insisting his sulking officers account for every one. “He’s rude and horrible, but he has a cocky charm,” Mick McManus once said about his character, and it’s so true. But I think the other reason that we like Taggart so much is that we know he’s on the side of the angels – a decent man who believes folk should be able to sleep safe in their beds at night. When he delivers his famous catchphrase – “There’s been a murder!” – we can feel certain that justice won’t be far behind. Sadly, Mark McManus is no longer with us, but what a fine legacy he’s left behind in a series that continues to this day, going from strength to strength.
As they say in Glasgow – “Gaun yersel,” Mick. You were one in a million, taken before your time, and we miss you.
SPARKHOUSE - A review by Eilidh
Often billed as a modern day Wuthering Heights, the story told of the tragic love story of Andrew and Carol...two young people from opposite sides of the tracks, whose parents played a major part in their respective destinies
TROUBLE AT T' FARM
First of all, allow me to vent my spleen at the BBC for airing ‘Sparkhouse’ pre-Autumn season. What kind of tossers showcase a major new drama at the end of August, when the great British public are still battling with their barbecues out on patios, and the holiday tans haven’t worn off yet? It’s like serving stew in the summer, or gazpacho in the winter. None of us would do it. So, with such appalling scheduling, it’s no wonder that ‘Sparkhouse’ failed to raise more than 5 million viewers. If it had been televised in November, when people are more likely to stop indoors and huddle around their TV sets for warmth, I think the viewing figures would have been very different. Some prat Beeb executive’s head should have rolled for that error.
One more thing to get off my chest (bear with me): if you’re going to remain true to the essence of Emily Bronte’s ‘Wuthering Heights’ (which Sally Wainwright did admirably), then you can’t get away from symbolism. The novel reeks of it, so a TV adaptation, however loose, should make use of it too. However, from what I’ve read of some reviews of ‘Sparkhouse,’ certain critics don’t like their symbolism spread too thickly. They prefer things random, subtle, understated. They railed against Wainwright’s symbolic use of the storm, for example, or the name of ‘Sparkhouse’ itself. Too obvious, they moaned. I say to them: sod off. Go and watch something really pedestrian, like an episode of ‘Animal Kingdom’ or ‘Songs of Praise,’ and leave the rest of us in peace.
I love symbolism because it can truly unify a work. And it’s my belief that ‘Sparkhouse’ was the stronger because of it. That opening scene, for example, where Carol and Andrew race across the moors to embrace each other and the storm, is electrifying in every sense of the word. It underlines their passion as dangerous, risky, frightening. They are indeed lightning conductors, and they’ll damage anyone who gets in their way. That’s the whole point of the story. This is everything that Emily Brontë wanted to convey about Heathcliff and Cathy’s terrifying and exclusive connection with each other. I can’t help but think she’d have approved of Wainwright’s work.
Like ‘Wuthering Heights’ itself, of course, ‘Sparkhouse’ is deeply disturbing. There’s violence around every corner, and the stench of buried secrets and lies smells much worse than the sheep dung. It’s only on the moors that the main characters seem able to breathe easily, and to escape the ugly issue of class division. With dysfunctional families like theirs, it’s no wonder that Carol and Andrew needed to find a secret place to call their own. And those early idyllic scenes in the ruined house are so essential: it’s only by seeing how happy they can be together – undisturbed – that the rest of the plot makes sense, because after their love is thwarted, they keep searching for a way back to that earlier time of innocence. I have to say that I believed in Carol and Andrew’s love absolutely, and the credit for that has to go to the actors – Joe and Sarah Smart had a real chemistry, which is more than you can say for most of the uninspired pairings that have shown up in recent Hollywood blockbusters. It’s all in the eyes, and the ‘Sparkhouse’ lovers don’t even see anyone else around them when they’re in close proximity to each other.
Sarah Smart gives a blistering performance as Carol, dominating every scene she’s in. The part was written with her in mind, and it shows. She owns that character so completely, it’s scary. Carol has been branded as Trouble by the Lawtons, and sometimes it’s hard to disagree with them. Get on the wrong side of her and, like Andrew, you could end up with a fist in your face. Or she’ll smash up your Range Rover beyond recognition. Or spread the rumour that you’ve got piles. Who wouldn’t run and hide if they saw Carol striding across the moors, spanner in hand? Without a doubt, she’s got more balls than Andrew and his father put together, and this is perhaps why she survives at the end. How could Andrew not have been attracted to her, coming as he does from such an insipid, uptight family? She offers him Life, and a way to connect with passion. There are admittedly a few occasions when it’s hard to keep sympathy with her – the hanging of the Lawton dog, and using John to make Andrew jealous, for example – but knowing what she’s suffered helps us to understand, though not necessarily condone, what she does.
Joe certainly faced a challenge in portraying Andrew Lawton because the character is Angsty with a capital ‘A’. For most of us, there’s only so much whining we can tolerate from someone before we feel the urge to slap their face. And there are moments when Andrew needs a good slap: the unforgiveable jilting of Carol at the registry office, the unfair taunting of John, and his dog in the manger attitude to Carol’s attempts to find a security he is never man enough to offer her. But I kept remembering the scene of Carol’s revelation about the family secret, that night in the ruin: Joe conveyed Andrew’s love and anguish so well in those moments that I could understand, later on, that he was just weak, not truly selfish or heartless. To be weak is a terrible curse; to know you are weak, and be unable to change that, must be even worse. It becomes increasingly clear in the last episode that Andrew isn’t going to be strong enough to pull through, and his lonely agony sitting by the riverside had me in tears.
It seems fitting that his father, the spineless Doc Lawton, was the one left holding his son’s lifeless body at the end, because he surely must shoulder the blame for much of the tragedy. He commits a professional indiscretion in order to manipulate his son, and he later tells Becky about Andrew and Carol, filling her mind with suspicions and doubt, and setting in process the whole fatal chain reaction. Full credit to Nicholas Farrell for conveying his character’s unbearable pomposity – a man so concerned with his own status that he won’t risk security for potential happiness, and makes everyone else’s life miserable because of it.
I confess that I had trouble taking Celia Imrie seriously as Mother Lawton, and I don’t think that’s her fault, because her characterization was flawless. She is just so firmly connected in my mind with her role in ‘Bridget Jones’ Diary’ that every time she waved her spatula around, I kept expecting to see Colin Firth wander in wearing a reindeer jumper. As a result, her spectacular venom in ‘Sparkhouse’ frequently caught me off guard.
I did feel pity for those who got caught up in the wreckage. Perhaps less for John than for Becky, because he had been warned by Carol herself what she was like. But there was still something appealing about John, so gauche and loyal to Carol. He was possibly the only character with true dignity, who tried to do the decent thing, and Richard Armitage’s portrayal was spot on. I have relatives who farm, and my cousin and uncle are just like John - they come in to the farmhouse at the end of the day for their tea and all they talk about are how the ewes are doing and the price of sheep dip. You spend long hours alone as a farmer, and it can make you taciturn. It’s a hard life. Of course, John is nothing like Andrew – that’s partly his attraction for Carol, but as a marriage I feel it’s doomed. How can you settle for rump steak when you’ve had sirloin? I’d love to see a follow-up series, focusing on the next generation, as Brontë did herself. Perhaps Carol and John could have a daughter who gets entangled with Tom, the Lawton’s grandchild? They could call it ‘Sparkhouse – the Rematch.’ Match = Spark – gettit? Hmmm.
As we know, nothing in life is perfect, and there were some flaws in this series. I didn’t buy Carol’s mum running off so abruptly with the BMW owner – that felt contrived. And Joe’s accent did slip now and then – it happened more towards the beginning, and I wonder if that was in the early days of shooting, when he was first getting into character. Perhaps it’s only really noticeable if you’re Scottish – or from Yorkshire. And I thought some of the nudity was gratuitous – the shower scene was essential, but did we really need three shots of Joe’s backside to emphasize he was no longer a virgin? If I were Joe, I might have felt a bit exploited there.
But there was so much to treasure in this series – rich performances, wonderful scenes like the prodigal Carol gatecrashing the cosy family lunch, and the moors which looked incredible, rain, snow or shine. Thinking about that Yorkshire expression – “D’you want ‘owt?” – I’d say a resounding ‘Yes, please’ to more productions like this. But only if the BBC agrees to schedule them more sensibly.
This is definitely one I’ll watch again and again.
