British "War" Miniseries

British “War” Miniseries

by Kristin Battestella

These relatively recent but limited edition British originals, revivals, and adaptations provide succinct yet no less heavy contemporary gang wars, World War II legacies, and interwar turmoils.

Archangel – Professor 007 Daniel Craig is tracing lost Stalin documents in this three part 2005 adaptation opening with 1953 deathbeds, period patinas, and choice reds before modern day Moscow presentations and protests. The culture contrasts are immediately apparent with western intellectual hobnobbing, conversations in both English and Russian, and elder comrades living in the past with their communist nostalgia while the young don't need lectures on their own history. The past, however, feels very present with card catalogs, records, big computers, and buried tool boxes that may hold million dollar evidence – sending our scholar digging where perhaps he shouldn't. This looks its age yet seems older, fittingly behind the times of a society at a crossroads. Increasing snow, desolate highways, and hidden tunnels add to the pursuits on the street, tailing cars, mobs at the payphone, tangles with the police, and bodies in the bathtub. Shadowy KGB remnants and FSB intelligence join the pesky reporter and cutthroat academics while the sad, regular folks ruined by the old regime just want the past to stay dead as outsiders throw the monsters back at them for a scoop. Touches of humor and charm alleviate the official Soviet seals, more behind closed doors flashbacks, and titular travels amid talk of radiation check ins and nuclear leaks as the race leads to a brisk wilderness and secret forest compounds. Of course, no one really bundles up for the weather and brief scenes away from Craig are less interesting, for his academia comes in handy at dusty libraries and his preachy British point of view creates relevant sociopolitical debates as he himself changes from seeking glory to protecting information. Was the past pride better than the so called free market organized crime and rich oligarchy today? Is this an elaborate set up with hopes of a return to Soviet form? Stubborn old believers still send in their party donations – leading to messianic pride, urban chases, and snowy shootouts. A desperate people will believe what they want to hear, but tender moments, animal traps, and cold river escapes from the embodiment of the old regime keep the plot personal amid an international what if. While there are too many comings and goings up and down staircases, there's also a Hitchcockian thriller tone with trains, a happenstance everyman. And a tough dame caught up in all the intrigue. However, the ending here is unfortunately very rushed – the building of the case is longer than the resolution and the abrupt finale doesn't resolve what happens next either personally or globally. Fortunately, the shocking conclusion sparks plenty of debate, and this is an interesting series to revisit amid our current political climate.

The Fear – Although the older smartphones and technology uses are a little dated, vendetta damaged hotels covered in ghostly construction plastic and burned out art galleries match The Who ringtones as illness sours patriarch Peter Mullan's (Top of the Lake) criminal enterprise in this 2012 quartet. The seaside rides, Brighton Pier restoration plans, and windswept surf should be fun, but the bleak nighttime waves, empty boardwalks, and gang controlled clubs create a shady mood. Sons, drug deals, foreign hookers, drinking, and blackouts interfere with the lavish, almost respectable lifestyle, and unexplained injuries lead to burning bodies on the beach and wondering what the rotary club would think if they knew. This is Richie's town – such a proud man, strong father, and tough crime lord cannot show weakness. Unfortunately, new enemies won't wait on big business mergers, and one reckless son ditching family for the perks of European connections escalates to gory payback. When pitiful slip ups force the old man to tell the cops he doesn't know or has no memory of an assault, he's not lying and truly can't recall. He hesitates with cover up responses, talking himself up and reminding his sons he doesn't answer to them. A brief narration sounds meta crazy – waxing on dementia versus normality, knowing you're losing it yet not admitting it. Distorted bookends and visual disconnects reflect the couple on opposite sides of the upscale foyer with up close camera frames and out of focus tracking shots. Former friends now doctors make for disagreeable trips down memory lane, but the gang competition is going poorly and so is golfing with the mayor. The local authorities aren't exactly thrilled with this turf war! Sensible son Harry Lloyd (Game of Thrones) tries to clean up the mess and act as the go between for his strained parents, realizing his dad has had his day. Sadly, he can't talk his way out of this battle and pays dearly, letting the trauma fester without saying anything. I can't stop thinking about that nasty humiliation scene, and though he pops up in a lot of smaller roles, Lloyd really should be a leading man more. Anastasia Hille (The Missing) is also impressive in the difficult position as Richie's wife, the only person who can help her ill husband but has been through too much already. Who isn't handling the bads or doesn't have a mental problem denials create helpless moments of compassion. How can one make real estate negotiations when he can't remember what's past or present? Memories and reality blur together as guilt contributes to the mental deterioration. Losing one's grip on reality is bad enough without an idiot son thinking he can rent guns and return them after the crime's done, and oi, don't put the severed head on the counter top it goes in the freezer next to the bag of peas! Pieces of agreements are being done without others, but you can't deal with drug lords when you have a doctor's appointment. Who's going to roll over into this deeper and deeper hole next? Shootouts spiral out of control, and police are afoot thanks to uncovered graves and get out of Dodge warnings. Rival fathers and sons each pay for their sins in an unspoken religious vein and abstract what ifs. Who's incompetent fault is this and if Richie wasn't ill would he be able to assure his legacy? Some may find the crook's downfall themes tame, but this performance driven rather than shock of the week parable isn't meant for the in your face action eighteen to thirty-four audience. If you're expecting wham bam you won't find it in this mature reflection. This is uncomfortable to watch and not for everyone because it is so realistically depressing. There may not be a lot of repeat value as the story is at times thin, and nasty though they are, the Eastern European villains are nondescript thugs with slurs to match. Despite several nominations, this deserved more awards and audience recognition – how did this take five years to garner stateside streaming? Fortunately, Mullan is delightful as this gruff but bittersweet crime lord losing his mind, and the superb family drama peaks with a lovely finale.

A Tough Call

Upstairs Downstairs – This 2010 revival created by Heidi Thomas (Call the Midwife) starts promisingly as a new family at 165 Eaton Place brushes shoulders with royalty and fascism in its First three part series. Our house goes from shuttered and abandoned to colorful and hiring new staff with Jean Marsh as returning housekeeper Rose Buck. Initially time moves fast, with mirror glances of a growing pregnancy indicating months passed and announcements on the death of one king and the abdication of another perfectly encapsulating everything in between. Empirical wrongs, loyal secretaries, and upper class eccentricities are acknowledged alongside budding Nazism, local protests, a fleeing Jewish maid, and a mute orphan – scandals the warmhearted and charming but slightly inefficient household can't always handle but braves nonetheless. Who’s in charge anyway? Is it wife Keeley Hawes (MI-5), her diplomat husband Ed Stoppard (Home Fires), or his dowager mother Dame Eileen Atkins (Cranford)? Above and below both gather around the radio or trim the Christmas tree together, aiding in problems big or small. So what if it's sir and madam or mister and miss; the biggest secret one can reveal is sharing one's given Christian name! Audiences don't need to know the Original seventies series inside out to marathon this Initial leg. However, the six hour 2012 Second season handles cast departures while introducing rogue aunt Alex Kingston (Doctor Who) amid 1938 broadcasts, gas masks, air raid drills, and sandbags on the door step. The bleak preparations recall the hefty prices already paid in The Great War, with opinions past and present dividing the house top to bottom. Characters below grow and change, doing their part in the face of war with well done period lesbian affairs and scandalous novels upstairs. Diplomacy both foreign and domestic is failing as famous jazz, flavorful nightclubs, servant balls, picture shows, and glamorous frocks have their last hurrah. We’ve had conflicts and live in hotbed times, but today's generation perhaps can't fully comprehend how those reluctantly bracing for II were not so far removed from I. Sadly, unnecessary abortion subplots and young JFK mingling hamper the intriguing high and low family versus employer loyalty. Duke of Kent Blake Ritson (Da Vinci's Demons) and Stoppard's Hallam look and behave too Talented Mr. Ripley latent, and the palace hobnobbing wastes time as the upheavals progress toward war. Superfluous bad sister Claire Foy's (The Crown) torrid is especially uneven amid more important conscription and war training, and the series is best when focusing on rescuing Jewish children, visa technicalities, and whether Britain will isolate itself from the refugees and turmoil in Europe – topics unfortunately relevant again. Who has time to worry about what society thinks of lame affairs and forced marital rifts in times like this? Classism snobbery runs the increasingly undermined leads into the ground, as our man of the house diplomat is so stiff upper lip worried about their reputation – yet its his ineffectual politics and can't keep it together at home embarrassing his address most. He's going to have to man up and answer his own door, O.M.G! Year Two should have been another three episode war imminent arc, for the soap opera shoehorning backs the quality drama into a contrived corner with nowhere left to go. Pity.

High-Rise

High-Rise is an Interesting Social Commentary

by Kristin Battestella

I didn't intend on writing many spoilers, but director Ben Wheatley and writer Amy Jump's (A Field in England) 2015 feature adaption of J.G. Ballard's High-Rise is an intriguing social commentary with heaps of characters and then versus now parallels ripe for analysis and study.

Dr. Robert Laing (Tom Hiddleston) moves into a prestige new high-rise designed by visionary architect Anthony Royal (Jeremy Irons) – who lives in the penthouse with his detached society wife Ann (Keeley Hawes). Laing befriends the lower living and debt ridden Richard Wilder (Luke Evans) and his pregnant wife Helen (Elizabeth Moss), as well as his upstairs neighbor Charlotte Melville (Sienna Miller) and her young son Toby (Louis Suc). Unfortunately, technological problems within the building escalate the high and low resentments, causing the floors to divide against each other in a social competition for food, necessities, and excess. The residents must fight to survive as the chaos explodes into full blown violence, escapism, and anarchy.

An Unusual framework 

 

Ironic classical music anchors High-Rise's routine morning rush and good-natured competition on the rowing machines. Most people don't care what happens on the floors above or below them, and it's easy to mind your own business, equally ignoring the small problems such as petty theft and blocked trash chutes or more serious hidden problems like abused children. Laing's introductions provide early exposition and layered subtext, and almost every name etymology or dialogue exchange has a second meaning to match the dual daytime calm and crazy tower nights. Who is the upper man in fancy cologne who stuffs the Financial Times in the mouth of the downstairs girl assaulted in the blackout? Surely, these wild parties and deadly actions are just growing pains like all the little mechanical problems. The advanced tower conveniences provide every envious need to some but not all, precipitating the destruction while bearing a concrete witness to the lust, sloth, and who knows what else happening. Petty races for the closest parking spot become no one remembering where there car is, and less and less people come or go, preferring the chaos inside as more of the building gets trashed with nastiness in the pool, wild sex, gruesome dissections, and children singing to beware the alligator. When it's great at the top there's no need to care if it's dog eat dog at the bottom – no pun intended. The uppers have never been to the grocery store and call it hunting when they don their robes or leisure suits to shop between orgies. Who can they blame below for the anarchy? The lessers must see the superior competition, and the penthouse Joneses will commandeer all the resources necessary – you know booze, canapes, cocktail onions, and cake. The downstairs, meanwhile is divided between staying pat or taking documentary action, capturing the mayhem just as today we look at the world through a rose colored lens on our smartphones. With its futuristic made retro, ambiguous newscaster, and life imitating art parallels, High-Rise retains Ballard's prophetic warnings on media and technology distorting our lives. The visionary design of the building complex – several high-rise buildings with an open palm motif – feels like a Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God warning, with the hellish herd thinned so the worthy can create a new warped normal. Once the sequestered wicked was swept under the rug, but the particular have and have not conditions of the High-Rise let the chaos fester and bloom.

Although the book begins with Laing's post-chaos calm balcony barbecue, this framework and flashback to three months before the breakdown may be a mistake for the film. A novel needs a first page hook with a promise of anarchy enticing the reader. A millennial movie, however, just needs to tell its mayhem from A to B, and the monthly skip adds confusion or a glossed over feeling – especially since there is a montage of destruction halfway through High-Rise with hectic, almost hidden flashes or suggestions viewers may miss. It may be intentional that the audience is unaware of the passage of time as the anarchy ascends. However, when the viewer must ask how long the social bedlam takes after Laing moves in or how the overdue Helen remains pregnant a month or more later, it takes the audience out of the immersive chaos. With such taboo or polarizing angst, High-Rise can't afford to have the viewer check out, and by beginning with Laing's end, the same anticipation that keeps a reader can kill a short attention span movie audience. I don't really want to see more of the violent assaults and implied scares in High-Rise, but the sex seen isn't very raunchy or somehow held back – stoic stiff upper lip rather than full throttle. At least Toby finds an ear! No one but Laing is seen shaving or growing a beard, and nobody runs out candles and cigarettes. Nitpicking contemporary viewers are often so desensitized to onscreen horridness, violence, rape, and murder that it almost seems like not enough happens in High-Rise – or, ironically, we expect social anarchy to erupt in a confined space. Yet if we find fault with High-Rise being too obvious or tame in its commentary on humanity's ugly, then what does that say about us?

Dr. R. Laing 

 

Like the past participle lain, Tom Hiddleston's buttoned up Doctor Laing is content lying low in his apartment detached from the outside world when not peeling the flesh from a skull or using tightly grip saws and mallets in his pathology work. His life is in boxes – said to contain “sex and paranoia” or “nothing” – and Laing likewise barricades himself in to avoid the destruction between rival floors. Laing has a bent little cigarette when he's insulted by the men at the top, but his third person calculating self won't go along with their lobotomies upon request. He's trapped in the mirrored elevator during the blackout and seems to dislike both lifts and stairs – tools to move above or below his station when he knows his place. As seen in Crimson Peak and Only Lovers Left Alive, the subtle cracking beneath the surface mask is what Hiddleston does best, and his simmer adds dimension to the otherwise neutral Laing, who never really reveals his full hand or says what he is thinking. Laing tells Louis Suc's (The White King) “Little Professor” Toby to blend in so everyone would like him, for he was always covered in mud or failure that his father wouldn't touch, but Toby questions Laing on if he killed his family, likes being the only one left, and why he didn't punch Simmons when he had the chance. Everyone trusts Laing's quietness, and he services all the women of High-Rise in some way – usually with his sexual prowess since he looks good without his clothes. Initially, Laing is concerned with sunbathing, massages, fitness, and cleanliness with repeated showering splices. He won't go in the pool, probably because he's told the children peed in it, and ash smears on his face in the same spot that is later covered with gray paint. Laing's suave seventies style parallels the building breakdown as his bell bottoms roll up, the white shirt dirties, and the choking tie is tossed. Even his hair becomes almost gray, completing his in between, non-committal uniform appearance. Laing blends in as a utilitarian part of the increasingly dirty tower, and his gray walls match the sky outside as the inside and out become one. Laing sponges his clothes in the shower and won't take them off for Helen, saying for the first time he is happy as a kept object with his new unusual family. He's where he belongs and intends to open a private practice to help others surrender as he has.

Wilder

As his name suggests, the performance that invests the audience most in High-Rise is Luke Evans (Dracula Untold) as the bottom floor family man Richard Wilder. He's a likable guy with a gruff seventies action man exterior. His flirting and fooling around is understandable, too – a guy's entitled to blow off a little steam! He has bills to pay, mouths to feed, and another on the way but the down documentary filmmaker with a vision isn't content as a point and shoot it cameraman. Wilder befriends everyone regardless of floor status and insists on doing justice for the children denied at the pool by an upper floors only reservation. He won't have his children humiliated, and while others try to rise by bending to the top's ways, Wilder intends to conquer them by fighting Simmons. Wilder suspects Royal uses Laing to feed upper propaganda to the lower orders, and the two become like rival sons – one cowering and one a man of action – with their pseudo sexual dance off meant to draw out Laing's wild side. Wilder isn't a bad guy but lashes out like a cornered animal fighting back against one too many snickers on high as most defending family men would do. He begins with petty pet vengeance before valiantly deciding to document the mayhem. He dares question why the police never come and insists on finding Royal as the albatross who can resolve the building's inequalities. Unfortunately, Wilder's climb through the tower's innards becomes a desperate, dirty obsession to get to the top even after his camera is lost. He embraces all manner of subterfuge to ascend the floors, threatening people with violence for information and gaining access with rapacious violations and misogynist control. He growls on a cassette recorder, caged under the glass table and lying in wait, orchestrating his rise to man of the house on a higher floor with a beaten woman serving his canned food supper. Did Wilder always have sociopathic tendencies or did this social collapse shape the warped nurture necessary to achieve his goals?High-Rise admits that a man will do what he can and get away with it once society allows the opportunity. It's uncomfortably provocative and frighteningly accurate once Wilder realizes what he has become – he is indeed the sanest man in the building because he is fully aware of who he is and what is happening, embracing the tower catalyst with no regrets.

The Lower Floors

Sienna Miller's (Layer Cake) Charlotte is described as being one of the few residents who cares – hosting parties, reviewing tenant applicants, and sitting on most of the committees despite a modest mid-tower apartment and no mention of any wealth or position beyond being Toby's mother. Charlotte knows everything about the building, admitting there is a social hierarchy already in place whether Royal likes it or not, and he refers to her as the number 374. But she is on the 26^th floor above Laing, who's room is styled as 2505? She approved Laing's “Byronic” application, so she knows his apartment isn't empty as she claims, and the intercut editing of her first party parallels Charlotte's what you don't see illusion. She leads Laing to the balcony, but we only see Toby spying and Wilder drunk under the glass table. She offers to find the tower brothel for Laing but selfishly talks about herself when they are intimate – and Royal knows about their relationship. Charlotte knows about Laing's sister, admits their sex is only about her and doesn't let him finish, and makes “Robert” agree that they must all do things they don't like. Charlotte watches with Talbot like spectators, discussing whether they should interfere with what is happening or not. The trick, you see is never letting one really know her, but the ambitious Wilder figures out her charlatan game. How does her apartment stay okay and supplied with her and Toby unharmed? The women in High-Rise are all somewhat stereotypical slut, mother, or shrew roles, yet each are both used at those stations and rise above them with consequences along the way.

At first Elizabeth Moss' (Mad Men) environmentalist mother Helen does anything to protect her children despite being tired of her family's bleak situation. She has a plant and one small window, but looks the other way for her husband by saying he's lost his documentary focus. She takes Laing under her wing and has a prophetic interested in recycling, but keeps her children home from school so she won't be unhappy and lonely. She loves her husband but doesn't trust Wilder, and Helen insists everything would be better if they could move to a sunny, higher floor. She barters her children's safety with her wedding ring before going upward. Helen finds solace with Laing before her motherhood gains her access to the top – both as a shunned maid and a revered sign of building renewal with her full moon delivery. Enzo Cilenti (Game of Thrones) as the psychiatrist Talbot isn't a parent, but tosses ice cream scoops over the tower's edge to explain gravity to the kids. He thinks the fascists above don't realize the building isn't as homogeneous as they think – especially when you deny people their basic necessities. Talbot says Laing is obviously hiding in plain sight, but people don't choose when they cross the line, it just silently happens. He documents with Wilder but is caught in the grocery, bound, gagged, and left in the uppers trash amid British versus French parallels and xenophobic insults. Reece Shearsmith's (The League of Gentlemen) orthodontist Steele – who does in fact, steal – is also adamant he isn't homosexual. However, he insists women would help the planet by keeping their legs crossed, and several quick moments suggest he's harming the Wilders' daughter. Steele becomes obsessed with people's trash and taking their teeth, and almost steals Helen herself since people are bartering wives for food. Fortunately, Laing says he isn't that hungry, and Steele respects his word, because, after all they are equals on the same floor.

The Architect and Co.

Royal is indeed the lord at the top – Jeremy Irons' (Reversal of Fortune) idea man who conceived and birthed the design but didn't lift a finger for the construction. Royal calls himself the tower's midwife and the architect of his own accident, vowing to see the teething building through after an on-site injury has left him limping and in constant pain with exercise his only relief. He plays squash with Laing, teasing him about Charlotte in a father and son sort of contest – the dressed in white Royal wears a towel around his neck, like a coach nursing this project of social change, but he dislikes the way people have retreated to their rooms with no escape from themselves. He descends in his mirrored elevator, finding his lost black goat in a hellish domain where he unknowingly bumps into the bloodied and red faced devil Wilder. Royal bargains with the officials knocking on the door to look the other way but hits and threatens with his cane like an angry father with a switch. He still could be the god from above brought to the streets putting man right, but Royal unfortunately succumbs to the committee at the top. He must reminds those above they are his guests and he will make the decisions, but they just roll their eyes at dad saying Laing can't be tossed off the roof because he owns him a game of squash. Royal almost comes to admire Laing's simple desire to be left alone, and over their candlelit dinner eating horse, he reiterates how he will not leave his nest. Royal realizes he didn't leave an element out of his crucible for change but let too many factors in the high-rise – a failure that has nonetheless brought about an escape to a new, twisted life.

Keeley Hawes (Mi-5) dresses out of the past as Royal's queenly wife Ann, isolated in her museum-like penthouse complete with a rooftop garden, goat, and horse. She doesn't actually ride, never gets her hands dirty, and is terrible to the maid she won't pay. Ann thinks Laing is there to fix a button for her to get what she needs, as if man has not other purpose, and she insults him in French, suspecting Royal invited Laing to her party as a silly social experiment. Ann switches to a saintly white hooded robe and isn't seen to have sex with anyone – Royal hitting her is the first time he has touched her in months, and the building is like their desperate to keep the dysfunctional marriage child growing worse alongside Helen's natural pregnancy. Ann packs to leave for her rich parents and slaps Royal when he asks if she is still enjoying her party, but Laing insults rather than indulges Sienna Guillory's (Fortitude) actress Jane Sheridan. Instead, she romps with the more dangerous Wilder during the blackout, and her pampered dog pays for it in the pool fight. Wilder tells her to “share and share alike” but she cries while looking at herself in the mirror. Jane bashes a man with red liquid in the supermarket and screams misogynist before drinking from the punch bowl in bed with her lookalike Ann. Did the building chaos bring out the actress's latent lady truths? We don't actually see her have sex with Wilder, and later Jane asks which bastard is going to have anal sex with her. Although, she may end up with the horse while the men have a symbolic but classical music sophisticated dance off instead. In a subsequent, awkward, and open to interpretation scene, Royal has sex with her as Ann stands nearby smoking and holding Jane's hand. Is this their idea of a threesome or a boring obligation for the women who prefer each other? Jane asks if anyone has made an complaint to the high-rise's owners, but Ann tells her they are the owners. She answers happily when asked where all the menfolk have gone, glad to have their brutishness out at the top, but what do the women do alone inside while the men are out killing the horse? Hmm...

Comedian Dan Renton Skinner's Simmons is Royal's strong arm henchman with sarcasm under his breath and a sense of entitlement that keeps him at the top. He wears all black to Royal's all white, putting his feet up and asking Royal who to blame for what went wrong. Despite hearing Royal invite Laing to Ann's party, Simmons tosses Laing out as a cheap bastard exceeding his station. Simmons leads food raids and receives sexual services while telling Royal he doesn't work for him, but the building, as if its an entity itself to those reaping the rewards of its anarchy. Likewise, James Purefoy (The Following) as cold hands gynecologist John Pangbourne is repulsed by the street level antics, walking passed the families arguing with the janitor over food and electricity and telling Royal he's ready to colonize the sky by clearing out the lower floors for a golf course. Pangbourne eventually proves useful delivering Helen's baby, but he beats Wilder, shoving toilet paper in his mouth. He thinks those wearing the leisure suits still control the unspoken rules of the high-rise, and he's willing to humor an exchange with Laing if he will help get rid of Wilder – dividing the ruffians in the middle so the top can prevail and reclaim the building. He mocks Royal as symbolically still holding the key to the building and tries to send him below to get rid of him, for the top isn't as united as they thought – it just takes longer for their ruthless to show once the food runs out and the women grow tired of the men's mistakes.

A Suave Retro Study

I like the Portishead cover of ABBA's “SOS”. It connects today’s bitter bleak with the onscreen breakdown as good film music should. However, I really love the pop gone classical “SOS” version – an ironically pleasant, upbeat strings rendition signaling the imminent social divides amid decadent parties and Marie Antoinette costumes. Dark humor, kaleidoscope designs, visual parallels, and exterior CG imagery accent High-Rise as the initially tall and mighty beacon in the sunny sky grows overcast with the clouds and darkness of its proverbial downfall – the building's shadow looms over the landscape and turns upside down in the perspective of the dead below it. Retro technology, record players, old phones, boob tubes, vintage sports equipment, build it yourself radios, and classy cars invoke the past along with ye olde supermarket styles and platform shoes. High-Rise is obviously seventies set, but it doesn’t say it with any fixed year given. Specifically dating it would trap the film rather than embrace the doubly fun retro futuristic of setting Ballard's predictions in the past. Although an onscreen countdown may have fixed the time frame issues – a character clinging to checking off the essential days or old school digital numbers that switch to handwritten or scribbled counts before disappearing once the chaos goes beyond calendar care. I also wish there had been more period music as a recognizable sign of the then heady excess we recall, if only as an excuse for some ironic Bee Gees!

Though not for everyone, High-Rise is not A Clockwork Orange or as shocking as it wants to be. The film's confusing frame and innate sense of British stoicism can create a numb viewing despite sexual assault and other extremes onscreen. We are also more like Laing than we care to admit – too accustomed to omnipresent sex and violence and sitting back while anarchy sorts itself. David Cronenberg’s Crimes of the Future is a much more disturbing parable, and the potential comparison to Cronenberg’s Shivers was one of the first things that intrigued me about High-Rise. I followed the entire press tour waiting for someone to ask Ben Wheatley about the similarities between Ballard and Cronenberg’s works, but there was only one article with the director's thoughts on the two. It's an older, inferior production, but Shivers embraces the terrible taboos from which High-Rise may shy, and it would be fascinating to compare these two side by side. Reviewing High-Rise took multiple watches, for I had to keep pausing while I typed all my thoughts. This isn't an entertaining or happy viewing experience and High-Rise at times wears its social commentary on its sleeve. However, this remains an intense little “this is why we can't have nice things” picture for a book versus film study, mature audiences, fans of cast and crew, or dystopian viewers.

A Dickensian Overview

A Dickens of A Time!

By Kristin Battestella

My sister the English Teacher and I are always discussing classic books and their various film adaptations and their use in the classroom.  I may love Charles Dickens, but she does not.  So then, for all those forced to read or teach the Victorian master, here’s a quick list of favorable, family friendly adaptations.

A Christmas Carol – Of course, I’d have to include at least one version of this timeless holiday classic, so why not all?  That would be a fun marathon to occupy the endless week between Christmas and New Year’s Day indeed! Modern youths may not appreciate the 1951 Alastair Sim version, nor perhaps the recent 2004 Kesley Grammar A Christmas Carol: The Musical is not for everyone.  So, unless you’re about to show Mickey’s Christmas Carol to the pups or the new Barbie in a Christmas Carol (There’s a scholarly study for ya!), that leaves the fine 1984 television tale starring George C. Scott- now on blu-ray- or the worthy 1999 Patrick Stewart TNT edition. Then again, you could always just read the book. 

Great Expectations – This Masterpiece Theatre presentation starring Ioan Gruffudd (Horatio Hornblower) and Bernard Hill (The Lord of the Rings) captures the spirit of what I must say is my favorite Dickens book.  Hill is menacing as Magwitch, but has his care for Pip.  Likewise, Charlotte Rampling (The Verdict, Swimming Pool) as Miss Havisham is delightfully demented and Justine Waddell (Wives and Daughters) is the wonderfully cruel girl of Pip’s affection, Estelle. Director Julian Jarrold (Becoming Jane, Brideshead Revisited) handles the progression from the bitter childhood circumstances to mature romance swiftly, and Gruffudd looks the Victorian part in this delightfully dressed production.  Perhaps this is a story that can’t be made wrong, but this installment is dang fine film, too.

Martin Chuzzlewit – So much attention is given to his more famous material, but this 1994 BBC serial pulls off another Dickensian tale of Victorian finances, scruples, and hypocrisy. The late Paul Scofield (A Man for All Seasons, Quiz Show), Tom Wilkinson (The Full Monty, Michael Clayton), Pete Postlethwaite (Sharpe, The Usual Suspects) and Julia Sawahla (Absolutely Fabulous) are a wonderfully period troop of rich and poor on both sides of the pond trying to connect the dots on who is closest to wealthy old Chuzzlewit’s prosperity.  Who doesn’t have money-grubbing relatives like this? (If you had to stop and think about it and decided that you don’t have any money grubbing relatives, then it’s you!) It’s a little slow to start the tale, and the American angles are ho-hum and stereotypical; but in some ways, it’s amazing how little our perception of class and money has changed since Dickens’ time.  Once again, Boz strikes gold with some perfectly named Pecksniff and Pinch characters- if only we were so aptly or ironically named in this currently growing gap of excess and belt tightening. That would be very interesting!

Nicholas Nickleby – This 2002 adaptation from writer/director Douglas McGrath (Emma, Bullets Over Broadway) hails an all-star cast along with all the charm of Dickens’ source material.  The music, wonderful locations, and lovely performances from Christopher Plummer (The Sound of Music), Nathan Lane (The Birdcage), Juliet Stevenson (Mona Lisa Smile), and Jamie Bell (Billy Elliot) combine with this timeless story of fortunes, family, and loss in a delightfully authentic English atmosphere.  The idealistic Dickensian style, however, does not let us forget the semi-autobiographical analysis of the poor and disenfranchised lost in the corrupt system.  Indeed, in light of recent economic downturns, Nicholas Nickleby might again be too relevant for comfort.  Read the book again or spend the evening with this bittersweet fair.  Thankfully, the proper DVD set includes a wealth of behind the scenes features for the Dickensian fan or the scholarly classroom.  Although its length is condensed by necessity, I’m surprised this movie didn’t find more acclaim upon its release.

Oliver! – This is the award laden 1968 musical that brought ‘Please sure, I’d like some more.’ to the masses.  Even if you consider today that the retrospective stage musical style and design isn’t what it used to be or if you remember how frustrating it was to stay awake while watching this in your Music Appreciation class in high school; this sing-a-long-able fair is still fun for the musical loving family.  Stars Ron Moody (A Kid in King Arthur’s Court), Mark Lester (Melody), Jack Wild (Pufnstuf), and Oliver Reed (The Three Musketeers) look the Dickensian part and sing and dance with plenty of joy, sadness, tenderness, and timeless charm.  Despite the somewhat depressing and socially heavy-handed source material, director Carol Reed (The Third Man) and writers Lionel Bart (From Russia with Love) and Vernon Harris (Three Men in a Boat) latently keep the sentiment and lessons in the simplest, youthful, innocent manner.  Skip the cartoons and introduce the little ones to Dickens here. 

Our Mutual Friend ­– This lengthy 1998 BBC adaptation of Boz’s final novel is not for the Dickensian layman.  Director Julian Farino’s (Entourage) complex, ensemble piece starring Keeley Hawes (MI-5), Paul McGann (Hornblower), Steven Mackintosh (Underworld: Evolution), and Anna Friel (Pushing Daisies) deals deeply with wealth, poverty, and the fact that who you know means everything in getting anywhere.  The English high society is colorful and lofty, shiny and satin; but the impoverished lows look the proper down and dirty underbelly.  Who wouldn’t disown their family and sell their marital status for money and prestige after such crippling workhouses and despair?  Unfortunately, there are no subtitles on this set, which would have been a great help just to see everyone’s names.  The ensemble is quite large, but everyone has his or her purpose and all concludes in perfect Dickensian coincidence, justice, and irony.  Amen.

Sometimes in our modern world of texting and internet slang, I’m afraid the English language will further divide- scarily to the point where Dickens won’t just be a bother to some students, but truly unreadable!  We can’t allow the wealth of literary thesis and education from Dickens to fade away.  So long as we aren’t forced to grow up on the dreadfully obvious and trying too hard Hard Times (ugh!), I’m all for Dickens remaining in the classroom through great books and fine film.

Flashbacks of a Fool

Misrepresentation Hurts Flashbacks of a Fool

By Kristin Battestella

Flashbacks of a Fool stars Daniel Craig, and the current James Bond actor is walking tall above his costars on the DVD’s cover. Craig is also the producer of this R rated film that assures strong sexual content. Unfortunately for Craig’s fans, he’s not the star here- as all the bold print marketing would have you believe.

After the death of his childhood friend Boots, actor Joe Scott (Daniel Craig) puts aside his promiscuous and washed up druggie ways and travels home to England. With the support of his wise maid Ophelia (Eve), mother Grace (Olivia Williams), and Aunt Peggy (Helen McCrory), Scott reminisces on his youth. Teenaged Joe (Harry Eden) and Boots (Max Deacon) fight for the attention of Ruth (Felicity Jones) during one quintessential summer. Joe also begins a deadly affair with neighbor Evelyn (Jodhi May), causing him to leave home for Hollywood glory. Will the adult Joe make amends with Ruth (Claire Forlani) and rectify his past?

I can understand why a lot of viewers and critics were disappointed and quickly dismissed this 2008 coming of age tale written and directed by Baillie Walsh (Mirror, Mirror). The promotions hyped all the Craig this and Craig that, but he’s actually not in the picture that much. The focus of Flashbacks of a Fool is Harry Eden as young Joe Scott. Girlies expecting hot Craig romps do get their share, but there’s no tour de force here. Had the picture been labeled for what it is-a charming English coming of age in the seventies tale-the perceptions towards Flashbacks of a Fool might have been different.

I’ve made a point to watch more Daniel Craig films, and yet I still can’t place my finger on him. Even in a picture such as Flashbacks of a Fool-even as Bond-Craig doesn’t seem to have much dialogue or screen time. It’s so strange to say of the new millennium’s Bond, but Craig has yet to have a serious, Oscar worthy, tour de force lead role. He’s emotional and realistic as the adult Joe Scott, but we don’t get the serious soul searching expected from a part like this. It’s not that Craig doesn’t provide it-or isn’t talented, even stellar enough to do so-he’s just not on screen enough in Flashbacks of a Fool. My main impression of Craig here? Well, he’s playing a drug addicted, washed up actor with two first names as his first and last name. Are we really supposed to come away thinking that this is how Daniel Craig would have ended up without Bond?

The supporting adults do just fine in Flashbacks of a Fool, too- but likewise we don’t see much of Claire Forlani (Meet Joe Black) or Keeley Hawes (MI-5) as Joe’s grown up sister Jesse. Jodhi May (The Other Boleyn Girl) is sexy as the naughty young thang next door, but her eye for teenage boys is statutory creepy, too. We know her performance will not end will. Miriam Karlin (A Clockwork Orange, The Rag Trade) is also a delight as the crabby, annoying, yet wise neighbor Mrs. Rogers; and rapper Eve (Barbershop and her titular Eve) is charming as the maid who’s too smart for all of Joe Scott’s crap. With such a mature and talented adult cast, there’s enough material for a separate picture. Why not simply have a washed up actor return home to reflect with his spinster aunt and the girl that got away? Walsh doesn’t use all the meat of his story or the talent onscreen.

Thankfully, Harry Eden (Oliver Twist, Bleak House) as the younger Joe and Felicity Jones (The Worst Witch, Brideshead Revisted) as the teenage Ruth make Flashbacks of a Fool. We spend the most time with them, after all. Again, this could have been the whole picture-a fine, tragic, coming of age film. Without Craig’s finances and star power, however, such a charming movie would never have seen the light of day. Eden has a touch of Craig’s stylings but adds his own emotional and angst to Joe Scott. Likewise, Jones is fun and carefree as the teen Ruth- before heartbreak, growing up, and death. As much as I’d like to see Craig have his penne ultimate role (Again, so odd to say about a man who’s landed Bond!), I hope to see these young actors succeed in fine film.

Yes, coming of age shows are nothing new, and youth in the seventies pictures are certainly out and about. However, Flashbacks of a Fool is unique for its English old style, glam soundtrack, and swift British beaches. Really filmed in South Africa, Walsh gives ups a particularly English tale thru clothes, David Bowie debates, and Brit wit. It’s all familiar, yet fresh and sassy. Flashbacks of a Fool looks the part. Although, I have to say, I don’t understand why we have a Craig’s hard-core sex scene over the opening credits. It’s as if Walsh doesn’t believe in his own film’s merit or ability to stand on its own. Star power is nice, but once we get passed the L.A. fluff, Flashbacks of a Fool is free to take us back to its heady, defining days.

Despite the overall briefity of the billed actors, fans of the cast will enjoy Flashbacks of a Fool. The youthful cast might also convert a few viewers, too. This one is not for minors or prudes of course- for there is plenty of nudity, sex, drinking, and drug use for audiences who like that sort of thing. The DVD is unfortunately weak, with only a five-minute bit of interviews. I can picture a lot of Craig’s obsessive lady fans snatching up the disc regardless. In the end, that’s probably what the powers that be had in mind. Flashbacks of a Fool was clearly a labor of love for those involved-if only the marketing campaign had been more faithful.

MI-5: Season 3

MI-5 Season 3 Unhindered by Cast Changes

By Kristin Battestella

It happens to every show eventually. After only sixteen episodes, the British spy series MI-5 shakes up its cast with comings and goings across the board. Such changes can make or break a program, but the heavy drama and gritty realism survive Season 3 unscathed. 

 

After shooting MI-5 Chief Harry Pearce (Peter Firth) to escape persecution for a crime he did not commit, Section Leader Tom Quinn (Matthew Macfadyen) must prove his innocence. Adam Carter (Rupert Penry-Jones) is transferred from MI-6 to help clear Tom’s name-but the task is not easy for Junior Agents Zoe Reynolds (Keeley Hawes) and Danny Hunter (David Oyelowo). Zoe wants to marry her new beau, photographer Will North (Richard Harrington), but trust is always an issue off the grid. Intelligence Officer Ruth Evershed (Nicola Walker) is more accepting of Adam, but she struggles with dangerous missions that come too close to home. Things don’t get any easier when Adam’s wife Fiona (Olga Sosnovska) is also loaned to MI-5.

It is a little unusual to have all three of your lead players depart in one year, but the exits of Tom Quinn, Zoe Reynolds, and Danny Hunter are staggered throughout Season 3. After such heavy missions, bad relationships, and ethical dilemmas, the exit of Section Leader Tom Quinn is a little melodramatic. Despite the cliffhanger from last season and an opening resolution being prime opportunities for a dramatic departure, Tom merely leaves quietly in the second episode. It drags a touch, but it’s understandable nonetheless. Even in such a brief time, we’ve had a high riding dose with Tom, and the character has run its course. The episodes in between his and Zoe’s departures may seem like filler, but they’re also doing the critical job of establishing new folks. Sure it’s not as heavy, but we also don’t know these players as well. Keeley Hawes’ exit does seem too convenient, but it’s fitting and makes sense as well. David Oyelowo is the last to go and his exit in the finale is a whopper. All are fitting exits, and its nice to have an onscreen bow out rather than a reference later, but after such extreme circumstances, the departures are a bit of a wimper. In the spy business, people come and go. As much as I’ll miss the original leads, I’m curious about the new folks, too.

He’s a bit prettier than Matthew Macfadyen, bur Rupert Penry-Jones (The Four Feathers) swiftly takes the reins at Thames House. In America, a pretty blonde boy comes into a series when a young, hip vibe is needed, but Adam Carter isn’t all show. He’s suave and cool about his business, but is also dark and dangerous, reckless in his work. I thought his early references to a wife were part of a joke or cover, but filling the void left by Zoe is Olga Sosnovska (All My Children) as Fiona Carter. She looks a little older than Adam, and both seem to have ambiguous pasts at MI-6; but I like her. They are a pretty couple who seem to have things together far better than Tom or Zoe did. Both do what needs to be done-in fact, they sometimes have a tough time convincing the rest of MI-5 to go where they’d rather not.

Beyond the goings of critical players, MI-5 head Harry Pearce and tech agents Malcolm Wynn Jones (Hugh Simon) and Colin Wells (Rory MacGregor) keep things on the level. Peter Firth’s harsh boss is opening up more, and we’re seeing him battle with serious office politics more and more. At last, Season 3 also brings us the gentler side of Ruth. Her unlucky in love storylines juxtapose well with Danny’s first potential assassination mission. That sounds very strange to say, but oh bla dee, the professional and private lives on MI-5 still go round and round.

Yes, season 3 of MI-5 has the same heavy international intrigue and complex storylines that we’ve come to expect. Again issues that are too risqué across the pond come to the forefront here. Rogue agents, corrupt clashes with the CIA and Her Majesty’s Secret Service, true Islam versus terrorism- all these heady hijinks feel instant and real because the big picture from creator David Wolstencroft is always brought close to home. Vengeful family members and the potential for dead babies are great personal touches on MI-5. We are satisfied at the cast departures because our beloved agents have at last beat the system, but seeing the new folks in such peril keeps our feelings just as deep. I don’t like episodes that begin with the ending and then go back and show us how we got to such a dynamite conclusion, but there’s enough suspense and intrigue remaining for MI-5.

With such action and spy-oriented stories, MI-5 is going to have its fair share of revolving cast members. Fans might take less interest according to how their favorites come and go, but there’s enough foundation to keep the series fresh in Season 3. Rather than being disappointed, I’m ready for my next ten episodes. Looks for MI-5 at your favorite retailer or online rental service today.

MI-5: Season 2

MI-5 Season 2 Heavy and Addictive

By Kristin Battestella

I can’t help myself; I keep watching more and more of the British spy series MI-5. The ten episodes of Season Two have been viewed, leaving me feeling intelligent, intense, and thirsty for more.

MI-5’s Section D leader Tom Quinn (Matthew Macfadyen) can’t seem to find the right balance between his secretive work and his love life. Likewise, Junior Offices Zoe Reynolds (Keeley Hawes) and Danny Hunter (David Oyelowo) struggle with their less than cut and try undercover assignments. Presidential visits, extreme terrorists, and military corruption are all in a day’s work for boss Harry Pearce (Peter Firth).

I thought the six-episode debut season of MI-5 was swift and dynamic, but 2003’s Season Two has upped the ante. Still small at ten shows, head writer David Wolstencroft keeps things tight, complex, and most definitely not cookie cutter. More international hijinks and intrigue come into play this season, and MI-5 is not afraid of subjects that would be taboo or tame across the pond. Critical episodes focusing on Muslim extremists, US and British relations, and the market for selling and stealing worldwide secrets keep the viewer on the edge. After all the grey at the office, MI-5 also tosses personal drama into the mix. Despite the action and complex plot, we never forget that spies are people, too.

After all the intensity of MI-5, I find it amusing that the show could also merely be about Tom Quinn’s lovelife. Three-count it three in ten episodes-relationships go sour for him. Sure, they all start off well and good, but after all the secretive phone calls and serious assignments, how can we possibly expect him to have a normal life? Macfadyen plays the serious spy and conflicted man to exception. His relationship with CIA liaison Christine Dale (Megan Dodds, Ever After) would seem like the perfect match, but we know mixing with foreign operatives can’t be good-and the cliffhanger finale reminds us just in case. As slick and badass as Tom runs his operations, Macfadyen makes sure we find him a little tragic, too.

Likewise, Keeley Hawes has grown beyond just being the pretty girl agent on MI-5. She keeps Zoe likeable-even though she makes mistakes and is afraid of losing herself amid all the undercover lives and cover stories. Even with these seemingly understandable flaws, Zoe rises to the occasion, leads up some missions, and does what needs to be done. Thankfully David Oyelowo‘s Danny has also been given more to do. We’re passed the hip token black guy introductions and now Danny is an equally unrested agent with a job that’s often too close to the edge. We even spend some ambiguous time with Peter Firth’s boss Harry Pearce. The chief at Thames House is strict when needed, but somehow loving of his underlings-and hey, he’s not perfect, either.

Naturally, we do have a few cast comings and goings this season. Nicola Walker (Chalk) as intelligence transfer Ruth Evershed and Shauna MacDonald (The Descent) as rookie operative Sam Buxton seem promising, but as yet they sprout information when needed or do favors like secretaries. Geeky agents Malcolm Wynn-Jones (Hugh Simon, Cold Feet) and Colin Wells (Rory MacGregor, Primeval) seem more defined as they sprout their gadgetry wisdom. We don’t doubt any of their work, but we’ve yet to go home with the supporting agents. I don’t know the reasons of their departures, but I miss season one standouts Jenny Agutter (Logan’s Run) and Hugh Laurie (House). We were just getting to know their secrets. I suppose cast movements add to the dangerous work of Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Anyone-high or low, good or bad-could be gone at any time.

Maybe there were touches of it previously, but this season I’ve really noticed MI-5’s handsome uses of split screens, archive news footage, camera tricks, and lighting techniques. It’s fast, busy, off colored, and askew; yet MI-5’s look is somehow still pleasing to the eye. Sometimes in movies, we are so inundated with herky jerky cameras and strobe lights that we can’t absorb it all. Here, however, the distorted view of newsreels, security cameras, and computer screens seems natural. The split screens represent the multiple views and angles of a mission, and the blue or red glows are the natural gadgetry lights. MI-5’s modern visuals give the viewer the look and feel of what it’s like for these agents. Some of the technology and mechanical talk may or may not be factual or realistic, but it’s dang cool. Maybe the cell phone can do it all!

Fans of pure action and sweet toys can enjoy MI-5 without a doubt, but intelligent audiences looking for thought provoking commentary will certainly find what they’re looking for as well. It’s rare to find a series that is so frank in its portrayal of our post-9/11 world yet so complicated in the black and white of its characters. We have a few curses and some naughty British slang, but there’s really nothing to deter teen viewers. If you’re smart enough to see the big picture MI-5 is talking about, then by all means, you should be watching. Some PBS stations have shown MI-5 at its uncut 53-minute length, so check your local listings. Look for the DVD sets online, in stores, or check your favorite rental and streaming options. I know I’m already saving up more time and money for more MI-5.

MI-5: Season 1

MI-5 Season One An Intelligent Delight

By Kristin Battestella

I don’t remember how I first heard about the British spy series MI-5. Maybe it popped up in my Netflix recommendations or was it by playing six degrees of Kevin Bacon with the cast? Regardless of how, I’m very glad I finally spent a night with MI-5 on my Instant Watch. Contemporary espionage mixed with timeless human hang-ups make this an intelligent, edge of your seat show that you can’t take your eyes off of.

MI-5 Section D chief Tom Quinn (Matthew Macfadyen, Pride and Prejudice) is as good as an intelligence operative as you can get. He and his junior operatives Zoe Reynolds (Keeley Hawes, Ashes to Ashes) and Danny Hunter (David Oyelowo, The Last King of Scotland) are on the front lines of terror in Britain on a daily basis. Unfortunately, their special status doesn’t make the men and women at Thames House immune to real world troubles.

Now, I have to confess, I’m not intimately familiar with law and order and secret organizations across the pond. However, that’s not going to stop me from watching MI-5, either. There are plenty of touches of CIA and MI-6, but the series keeps its focus tight on a handful of operatives. The stakes are high and head writer David Wolstencroft isn’t afraid to use, abuse, and kill our cast. Placing the lives and struggles of people above the action and hijinks is what makes MI-5 stand out against other intricate fast paces American series like Alias and 24.

Gadgets are useful, I’m sure, but I’m glad MI-5 places people first. This debut season premiered in early 2002, so terrorism plays a significant role in this organization’s lives. But then, that’s all in a day’s work, isn’t it? In only six episodes this season, MI-5 establishes the nature of a post 9/11 world while giving us healthy complex storylines and solid character interactions. Not just about the folks at home, the twisted guest stars are also written and played as charismatic, intelligent, and dangerous folks. Remember, a villain never thinks he or she is a villain. His cause is always right and worth any cost. We’d like to think the gang at MI-5 is always right, and the bad guys are all terrorists, but the multilevel characters don’t make things so cut and dry for the viewer. In addition to a lot of frank grey where there should be black and white, MI-5 doesn’t shy away from international intrigue, politics, or red tape.

I didn’t know who most of the cast was to start, and in some ways, that’s a good thing. Macfadyen’s Tom may be a section leader, but he is just an average Joe trying to keep his home life together away from work. He could be you; he could be me. Sure, we don’t have to hide our job from our families and do it all under a fake name, but we certainly understand Tom’s conundrum. Likewise, Zoe goes through the same ill balance on the job. From using womanly ways to living in a one-room apartment, we feel her difficulties. Romances come in just enough, and the men versus women dynamics at MI-5 are just right.

I enjoyed seeing Jenny Agutter (Logan’s Run) again as Section K master Tessa Phillips. She and boss Harry Pearce (Peter Firth, That’s Life, Equus) add veteran acting and maturity to MI-5. They know what has to be done for the team, their country, the world, themselves; but that doesn’t make those decisions any easier. The personal prices they’ve paid are high as well. Only David Oyelowo as Danny seems a little unrealistic. Why is the new take on the ‘token black guy’ to make him the ‘technological expert token black guy’? Are all British Black Guys tech wizzes? I have to say, it is strange to me to hear black men with British accents as it is, and naturally, MI-5 isn’t called Spooks in the US for the term’s ill racial use. Thankfully, House star Hugh Laurie makes the most of a two-episode stint as the slick head of MI-6.

Now, before anyone panics at all this British talk, I must say, the accents and wording on MI-5 aren’t that bad. Usually I like to have subtitles just in case, but the voices are pretty easy on the American ear, and there isn’t even a lot of British slang for us to translate, either. Even though it’s a British show and as such says and shows more than US audiences are used to, MI-5 is fairly tame against big action yarns. There are frank deaths onscreen and a few curse words, however, so maybe tweens and younger should wait until they are old enough to appreciate MI-5 and all its complexities. The emotional toll for watching is heavy, but worth every minute.

The series’ seasons are short and the DVDs are affordable enough for quick viewing. Blessedly, online options and rentals are available as well. The rest of MI-5 is hogging my Instant Watch, and I’m looking forward to converting my Husband. There’s just something special about a television program that makes you think about where you are in the big picture. TV that makes you smarter is rare indeed, and I think I’m addicted to MI-5. Regardless of what you call it, intelligent audiences on both sides of the Atlantic can and should enjoy MI-5.