The Thick Of It: A View

Last week saw the end of the second series of Armando Iannucci's political satire The Thick Of It; eight episodes of sheer brilliance that was so good that I think it could well be the best British TV show of the year.

So good, in fact, that I'm going to moan about it for the next 400 words.

I had a few issues with the series, although a lot of these weren't actually related to the individual episodes. What troubled me was the way that the whole series knitted together and all too often, how it jumped from one storyline to the other without offering sufficient build up or back story.

I'm fairly sure that Iannuci's argument back to me would be that things in politics move that fast; one day things are fine and the next day you've been sacked. That viewpoint seems to forget the actual politics themselves though; the daily agendas, the negative undercurrents, the deterioration of professional credibility. What's more, basic TV writing suggests you need to introduce plots and characters with a degree of subtlety; not sledgehammer them to death in a quick and brutal murder.

The two things that irritated me were concerned mainly with the final two episodes. Firstly, the introduction of the character of Steve Fleming as Malcolm Tucker's rival press officer so late in the series seemed a little forced. We are encouraged to believe that there is a back story whereby Tucker shafted Fleming early in government life but for all that the viewer knows, he arrives without any prior warning.

The problem was that Tucker didn't seem to be losing his grip during the first six episodes. You could argue that his rants were getting increasingly more socially unacceptable (and punching a civil servant in the face is pretty socially unacceptable) but there was no evidence until - with two episodes to go - Fleming was introduced and the two engaged in a power struggle. Effectively, in thirty minutes we went from believing that Tucker was in complete control to being forced to resign. It didn't ring true.

There was also a fabulous cameo from Tom Hollander as Conservative Press Maniac “The Fucker” which was memorable and funny but completely at odds with the rest of the series. You can't just bring characters like that in for two minutes at the end of a series; it just unbalances everything else. What's more, The Fucker didn't really serve any great purpose in the programme other than to make the point that both politic parties are the same (i.e. as soon as the Tories get into power, a conservative Tucker clone would emerge to do the exact same thing). As a storyline it seemed forced and rushed; almost as if Iannuci was trying to throw as many things into the last episode as possible and hope it stuck.

The way in which it culminated with a general election being called also felt like a bit of a damp squid; no great resolve like the other individual episodes in the series, it just left a great deal of uncertainty.

Despite all of these things, The Thick Of It was an overwhelming success. It is a measure of the quality of the programme that it can have as many problems as this and still have at least four or five genuinely laugh out loud funny. The characters are superb, the quality of the satire in direct comparison to real life events was equally as good. It just needed a bit more thinking out when it came to the series as a whole.

Guardian Angels

It perhaps says more about me that I have formed huge attachment on several writers on the Guardian newspaper. It started with Laura Barton, a writer who seems to share all of my main opinions and tastes and can express them in a way that's so undeniably passionate that it makes me want to proclaim her my dream woman.

I feel the same way about Marina Hyde, the columnist behind the weekly Lost In Showbiz column and Charlie Brooker (although he at least doesn't conjure up the dream woman analogy quite as well). So much so, the last two books that I've read have been written by both of these two writers. The books in question are Marina's "Celebrity: How Entertainers Took Over the World and Why We Need an Exit Strategy" and Charlie Brooker's "Dawn Of The Dumb".

Hyde is best known for her Lost In Showbiz pieces, where her deeply satirical, whimsical and consistently hilarious pieces are published in Friday's G2 supplement. I was delighted to hear a few months ago that she was releasing a full length book based on these pieces but studying them in more detail. My copy was not sat on the shelf for very long before I devoured it in a few short bursts.

Stylistically, Celebrity is a mixed bag. One thing instantly sticks out as troublesome, whereby a lot of her jokes are stuck in footnotes* which takes a little getting used to. This device is used on most pages and although some of the jokes gain a little from the "Reveal" of having to go down to the bottom of the page to reach the punch line, it ultimately disrupts the rhythm and flow of the writing. You do get used to it as the book goes on but it does leave a lasting impression that it could’ve been handled in a more reader friendly way.

Another thing that becomes clear with the book is that there isn't quite enough material to spread it out over a full length piece of work. For the first half this isn't as much of a problem but as the book progresses, it tends to get a little stuck with the same cast of celebrity characters and similar stories.

That said, when it hits the mark it really obliterates its targets with Hyde's trademark wit. This book contains some of her best work when you boil it down to its smaller chapters and segments and perhaps that's the biggest problem.

When it comes down to it, the more successful of the two books was Brookers - which wasn't really a book as much as a chronological publishing of the already published columns in the Guardian from the past few years. In doing so, a lot of the writing was very much of its own time; for example lots of the pieces were about television shows happening at that time, like X Factor and Big Brother and this doesn't translate that well when these events have passed and the people involved in them are forgotten.

The reason why Dawn of the Dumb works better is purely its brevity and mainly because it hasn't been edited to try and become something other than a collection of newspaper articles already published.

Marina Hyde should be applauded for taking a subject that she's written about with great success and trying to craft a piece of work that's different in style and nuances, but expanding on all the main themes. It is a proper book rather than just a cynical attempt to move into the more lucrative paperback market.

Celebrity is still worth reading, make no mistake. Hyde's writing is perhaps the most engagingly funny and brilliantly satirical that I've ever read. But, as a style and a form, there's a reason why it was much more successful in short, sharp weekly newspaper articles.

* I'm not funny enough to do these as well as Marina.

Location, Location, Location

When going to some kind of prestige, serious musical concert ones of the most important thing for the organisers is to make sure that they get the right venue. Over the past seven days I've been to three wildly different concerts; the Wainwright family Christmas show at the Royal Albert Hall in London, the Halle Orchestra at the Bridgewater Hall in Manchester and Spiritualized playing their 1997 album Ladies and Gentleman We Are Floating In Space at the Manchester Apollo. What's more, in all three concerts I was sat on the front row of the Stalls.

The unfortunate aspect of the three concerts was that the one I was most emotionally connected with was at a really poor choice of venue.

Since I bought Spiritualized's 1997 album Ladies and Gentleman We Are Floating In Space, it has been a record that I continually find myself coming back to. At the time, I thought it was a good album but as the years have gone on I keep finding new things from it. The songs are rich, full of colour both on the surface and underneath the sheen. In short, it is an amazing record.

Anyway, a huge stage of people (including a gospel choir, a string and brass section) descended onto the stage at the Apollo. What puzzles me is how anyone would think that the venue was capable of coping with this sound; having seen an orchestra there last year with the Last Shadow Puppets I can promptly confirm that it simply doesn't have the sonic capabilities to pull such expansive sounds off.

This time the sound was ruined by an increase in volume across the board to try and squeeze all of the sounds contained in that brilliant record to the rest of the theatre. All this meant was that singer Jason Pierce's voice was pushed over the top and the brass section in particular was reduced to a shrill high-pitched squeal. When the band went off on the noise-scape done so beautifully on the album, all that you could hear was just a stupid mess of loud noise.

Put Spiritualized at the Royal Albert Hall or the Bridgewater Hall and these problems could well have been resolved. In the surroundings of the Apollo, all that happened was that I came away disappointed and have a rather concerning level of ringing in my ears 24 hours later.

In comparison, the sound wasn't the best at the Royal Albert Hall for Not So Silent Night and the consistency of the evening struggled when there wasn't an eminent Wainwright on stage (Martha or Rufus). There were moments of magic: Guy Garvey covering Joni Mitchell's River, Ed Harcourt and Martha singing Fairytale of New York, Rufus and his boyfriend singing Silent Night in German. The problems with the sound were the complete opposite of Spiritualized in that if anything, the vocals weren't loud enough and the drums seemed a lot louder in the mix than they should've been.

As a confirmed fan of all of the members of the Wainwright and McGarrigle clans, it was an enjoyable enough evening. Reviews in the press afterwards were mixed and I can understand why; for non-fans I can imagine that the show dragged a little and lacked a little imagination at times. Considering I'd spent quite a bit of money on travelling down to London and all that entails, I came away with a slight feeling of disappointment too.

I didn't have too much time to dwell on this though. A few days later, I was at the Bridgewater Hall for The Halle Orchestra's "Halle Pops" evening, featuring some of the most famous classical music ever written with compositions from Mozart, Bach, Vivaldi and Mendelssohn. Being the first classical concert that I'd ever attended, I wasn't really sure whether or not I was going to enjoy myself but I soon settled in to the spirit of things and made the most of the occasion.

Some of the traditions of classical music - the soloist leaving the stage and then coming back on at the end of every piece, for example - seemed a touch unnecessary. Another striking difference I noticed was how members of the orchestra didn't particularly look like they were enjoying themselves, something that when pop performers would be critically mauled for.

The Bridgewater Hall is a fabulous venue, far and away superior to the Royal Albert Hall in every way other than size. Sitting on the front row for the event wasn't necessarily the great choice that I was anticipating though - too many music stands and large instruments obscure the view in these situations.

And then, on to the Apollo. The feeling of disappointment from the Wainwright concert was permeated; almost to the point that it detracted from one of my all time favourite albums. I would question why the slightly reclusive Jason Pierce wanted to re-enact what was a quite painful period of life and he never looked totally comfortable on stage performing. At a different venue, this wouldn't have been a problem. At the Apollo - with ringing ears and a front row seat of which a sound monitor obscured the entire middle of the stage (drums, brass and strings included) - it lost a lot of its magic.

So, what are my general conclusions about music venues?

A. If you have a prestige concert it needs to be in a prestige venue.
B. The Manchester Apollo is a dreadful venue for anything other than guitar-bass-drums basic bands.
C. Sometimes the front row tickets aren't always the best
D. Did I mention that I hate the Manchester Apollo?

In Treatment: A View

Having just watched the final episode of the first series of the HBO therapy drama In Treatment, I feel compelled to write of its virtue.

Staggered over five weeks, with one 30 minute episode showed every weeknight, I was initially slightly dubious about making the commitment to watching something so time-intensive as I'm not always at home every night to keep up. Fortunately, I started watching and the rest is history. Even when I wasn't at home, I found myself watching a week’s worth in one go at the weekend; each episode hungrily munching into the next.

For those who didn't see any of the mass media publicity geared towards its broadcast in the UK nine weeks ago, In Treatment follows the psychotherapist Paul (played in perhaps the role of his life by Gabriel Byrne) treating four new patients. Each one gets a 30 minute programme each week, with the Friday show being Paul attending his own therapy with Gina (another superb performance from Dianne Wiest).

Nothing much happens physically in these episodes; it is just dialogue, character-to-character. On a week-by-week basis, new developments emerge from each patient as we slowly build up their back-stories and this structure is one of the most entertaining parts of the programme. The reason it works, largely speaking, is the quality of the writing and the timing of new developments with each character and treatment. For the first few weeks as you got to know them, there was one key revelation in each programme - usually about three quarters of the way through and this key moment was often so impeccably timed that it made the whole programme.

The characters are a brilliant mix that illustrated the way that most humans are messed up - on one hand completely dislikeable and then on the other, hard not to love. Take Laura, for example. She's one of the main storylines of the first series, which begins with her announcing that she was in love with Paul in the first episode. On one hand she is clearly vulnerable and scarred but this manifests itself through a series of games and fanciful stories designed to unsettle the natural order. In doing so, she helps to manifest a mid-life crisis in Paul which reaches its climax by the final episode.

At this point, it is clear that she doesn't actually love Paul and that she was chasing after the unattainable, testing the boundaries as opposed to searching for anything else. She is a neurotic and unreliable character, yet still strangely sympathetic.

The other characters are a little more hit and miss. Alex, a traumatised fighter pilot is a riddle of contradictions and the least successful of the patients; he is difficult and cold and there are several puzzling plot holes that restrict him. In contrast, Sophie - a deeply troubled young gymnast who has tried to kill herself - is a much more loveable character and is perhaps the only one of the four that I found real sympathy with. I wanted her to sort herself out and I was concerned about her in a way that I wasn't with the others.

Finally, there's Jake and Amy. Jake is a hothead musician whose relationship with Amy is based upon a volatile dynamic that therapy manages to remove. Rather than strength their marriage, the lack of tension results in the end of it and by the end, the roles have reversed in that Jake is the sympathetic character - once the audience has the time to understand why he acts the way he does, it becomes a different storyline altogether.

Ultimately though, the best thing about In Treatment is that it takes place in a single room, conveying emotions and storyline through dialogue and extreme Ingmar Bergman style close-ups. It is reassuring that there is an audience for slow build up and that you can tell a story without having to lose all realms of subtlety. Sure, you could argue that the characters undergoing therapy are overly dramatic but that is part and parcel of the form that the programme has to take.

As far as fantastic television goes, In Treatment is up there. If you missed the series on Sky Arts then I'd recommend investing in the box-set and gorging on its 43 episodes.