The rise of British Urban Fantasy

In the past year, two TV shows started. They both had the most gimicky concepts I've ever come across. It was quite a shock, that they both turned out to be my favourite recent UK TV finds. The first; A Vampire, a Werewolf and a Ghost share a house together. The other, ASBOs with superpowers.

First, with the malcontents of this world; recently, I took a chance on a short lived, comedy drama series on E4 called Misfits. It turned out to be a revelation. It was about characters I should have hated; chavs, criminals, malcontents and ASBO recipients. Then they almost get killed by hail stones the size of shopping trolleys and get struck by lightning while painting canal-side benches. This, of course, gives them all unique super powers.

So, do they then use this power to solve crimes, or save the world? Do they bollocks! No, they use it to cover up a murder they commit in self defence. They use it to stay alive as many others around their dreary, inner city existence begin to exhibit abilities as well. The Misfits' powers manifest from their desires and insecurities, for instance sensitive, former athlete Curtis who regrets his decisions that led him to community service gains the ability to rewind time when he feels guilt, regret or panic. Super-chav Kelly believes everyone is talking about her behind her back, as well as thinking ill of her, and so becomes a mind-reader. Shy, awkward Simon is friendless and lonely and considers himself un-noticed, manifesting itself as the power of invisibility. Sexy, confident Alisha considers her physical appearence to be her primary and only asset and that the only reason she is noticed and accepted is her sexuality, and through the storm, can induce men into wildly passionate lust through touch. And Nathan... well, that'd be telling, wouldn't it? Nathan is the series' best, most interesting character. He's the group's sort of leader, except he isn't. He's a cocky, witty, urbane, crude Irish prankster, seemingly without a shred of decency or morality within himself, except he's very sensitive, passionate and deep, beneath all the smug, bravada.

Misfits works because it is well written, with a heavy focus on characters, continuity and a fully fleshed out universe. It is very funny, but also kind of heart breaking, tense and extrememly dark. I loved it. Roll on series 2!

As for the second series I mentioned. Well, this is last year's Being Human. Whose premise sounds like the first line of a joke. A bad joke. I expected, honestly, a 'Two pints of lager and a packet of crisps' type show. With jokes about leaving the blood out of the fridge to go off, and werewolf hair on the sofa. Instead, what we were gifted with was nuanced and somewhat profound. It was about three, lonely, lost souls, who find each other and share a house in modern day Bristol. The only thing unusual about it was that the leads were monsters. A vampire, a werewolf and a ghost. But this was a superficial detail, a metaphor for the trials of life.
Mitchell is a vampire gone straight, a man looking to leave his past behind him, and start afresh, though the local tribe of bloodsuckers is unlikely to let him rest... or get in their way.
George was the victim of a single scratch and now seeks to remove himself from society, afraid of what he might do when the moon rises. And Annie is a spirit and agrophobe, trapped in the house where she died, un-noticed and forgotten, trying to come to grips with the lives being lived in her absence.

It was also sharply written, with a strong core of humanity and emotional attatchment. The characters were believable, even if they are inhuman creatures, and the story exciting and engaging. Series 2 of being Human arrives next month on BBC 3.

So why this rise of new British fantasy? I like to think that Russel T. Davies' re-vamped Dr Who has something to do with it. That such a successful and mass appeal relaunch of a sci-fi series has helped usher in a new wave of genre programming. Perhaps, now, after Buffy, Battlestar, Lost and its ilk have swept the US, now, it is our turn to probe the darkness for new ideas and experiences?

Things I love more than a cold beer on a hot Christmas morning: Case File #2: The Wire

Friends and family alike may groan at the sight of this blog post, should they read it. Because, of The Wire, I just won't shut up. There's a reason of course, which is that The Wire is the best television programme of all time. It is better than anything put out anywhere in the world and while challengers to its throne continue to emerge in this golden age of television, Breaking Bad, Mad Men and Deadwood coming closest, it remains the King. And as Omar would tell you, "you come at the King, you best not miss."

The Wire was an HBO television series, which ran five seasons beginning 2002 and was set in contempory Baltimore, Maryland (Bodymore, Murderland). Trying to sum up its epic scope now would be doing it a giant diservice, but for the purposes of this review I'll try anyway. An engrossing, slow burning, novel on film; The Wire is about the exploration of the death of the American Empire. About how institutions are flawed, failed concepts and how people are mere cogs within unfeeling, unsympathetic systems, be they governments, organised crime, unions, corporations, the media or the educational system. At first, The Wire focussed on the ongoing drug war between the Baltimore Police Department and the various drug gangs working the streets of Baltimore, slinging product and dropping bodies.

As it went on, however, it expanded its focus, to include the dock workers (season 2), city hall (season 3), the public school system (season 4) and the city newspaper (season 5). The cast was incredibly expansive, involving (at the end of its run), over 40 regular or recurring characters, all of whom were pretty terrific in my humble opinion. Also of note, probably 60 to 70% of the cast was black, which is very unusual and brave for an American tv show.

The authenticity of the show was also unparalleled. David Simon, the show's creator was a former Baltimore Sun journalist and his writing partner, Ed Burns was a BPD Homicide detective. The two collaborated on Simon's seminal and fantastic book Homicide; a year on the killing streets which in turn, inspired the tv series Homicide; life on the streets, which was a sort of Wire beta test.

If you start watching the Wire, you first must pass through a sort of trial by fire. Simon makes almost no concessions to his audience, believing you to be as smart as he is (which you (and I) almost certainly, aren't). You will be thrown in without as much as a word of warning. You will not be spoon fed or hand held on who everyone is, what their roles are, who they work for, what their position is or what their motivation is. As well as this headscratcher, you will be thrown specific police terminology and street slang from urban, black America, which, as a white, middle class British man, is like watching a Hong Kong film without subtitles.
But do not fear, just watch the first three episodes in a row and you should make it through to the other side, unscathed and enlightened.

The Wire is, at it's heart, a Greek tragedy. It most often deals with how institutions let people down, swallow them up, use them and spit them out when they're done. Each and every person is a small, tiny, forgettable part in a larger mechanism (except Omar, more on him later). And each institution, be it Police, school, prison, newspaper, drug gang, has its own unique, but ultimately parallel power structure. All of these forces are routinely pissed on by the only individuals with true power, the politicians and police brass sitting at the top of the food chain. Except their priorities are yet more power, wealth and covering their arses. It is an old story.

It is an angry show, one which challenges, but does not pretend to have anything close to answers. Simon may be one of the great chroniclers of his age, but he also understands that it will take more profound events and minds than even his own to solve the problems facing our so called civilisation.
What's beautiful about the show, is that in spite of its healthy and very much overwhelming nihilism, it is a show of humour and humanity. It showcases true presences who try to move beyond their trappings and enact real difference, although they are still trapped by their situation.
Within the police, it takes true courage (and pig headed stupidity) to even attempt to bring real cases to the court house. Men like series lead Jimmy McNulty ("What the fuck did I do!?"), Lester Freamon ("All the pieces matter."), Kima Greggs ("You motherfuckers kill me. Fighting the drug war, one brutality case at a time.") and Cedric Daniels ("Bend too far and you're already broken.") who routinely work within the Major Crimes Unit to do real police work. Then there's Stringer Bell ("Until then we are going to handle this like businessmen , make the profit and later for that gangster bullshit."), a drug dealer and crime boss, who is a murderer and blight on society, but with other visionaries like Proposition Joe ("...proposition then."), a reformer looking to revolutionise the drugs trade with co-ops and an end to street violence.
One of the Wire's finest moments came with Season 4's school story. The following of four boys through one fateful summer, as they each loose their innocence to the murder, drugs and poverty around them. And of course, I cannot forget the streets. I cannot forget Bubbles ("Ain't no shame in holding on to grief . . . as long as you make room for other things too."), a junkie, homeless, waste of a man, who holds more charisma and dignity than half of the politicians and police brass combined. A man who's ascent up a flight of stairs was one of television's greatest inspirational moments.
And lastly, to Omar ("I got the shotgun. You got the briefcase. It's all in the game though, right?" "Oh, indeed."), the stick up man. Which is to say, a man who robs drug dealers for their dope and cash. An extraordinarily dangerous profession by any stretch of the imagination. Omar Little is a legend, the only character to refrain from profanity, to stick stringently to his code (for the most part), to acquire a mythical, wild west status, to be a practising homosexual. Most importantly, unlike every single other character in the Wire, Omar is bound to no institution, no hierarchy, no narcotic, no rules. He is a free.
And of course I've left out an epic assortment of other characters, but there's only so much time in the day.

The Wire is profound, seminal, challenging and socially conscious. It asks the right questions, pushes the right buttons, forces the issues. It is character driven, superbly acted, written and directed. It is genuine, hard and nihilistic, while being damned funny (The "fuck" crime scene being paramount). It changed the way I look at television drama, what I expect from TV, and raised the bar for all to follow.

And finally, about the real Baltimore, Maryland. The crushing poverty and despair at the heart of the series is as close to a documentary as fiction gets. Such a realistic portrayal has never before been seen in crime drama. The Wire was filmed in Baltimore. It used local residents and relied on real life events to inspire its story lines and the lives of its characters. In short, you must see this series, it is simply, fucking brilliant.

"All in the game, yo."

Words of Wisdom #000001 - Al Swearengen

"Pain or damage don't end the world, or despair, or fuckin' beatings. The world ends when you're dead. Until then, you got more punishment in store. Stand it like a man -- and give some back."