James reviews Rising Damp on That’s TV, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit on 5USA and City in the Sky on BBC2

Hello, I’m James Brook, and welcome to the thirty-seventh episode of ‘I Review Freeview.’ 

This is where I review Freeview programs. Go to IReviewFreeview.com to search, listen, or indeed read and/or comment on all my reviews, past and present. And if you’re curious about the future, see the ‘What’s up next’ section at the end, or look on the website. That’s IReviewFreeview - all one word - dot com. 

In this episode, I will review:

Rising Damp on That’s TV, 

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit on 5USA and

City in the Sky on BBC2

For the moment at least, I’m sticking with 3 reviews per podcast. There’s no particular theme, unless an ambition for them to be as different as possible is in itself a theme. So I’m hoping what I remember as a superb sitcom - Rising Damp - is as beguiling and as funny as I recollect; and that what I think is an American Police procedural - ‘Law and order’ - is worthy of being elevated to ‘series record’ status, and to finish, Dr. Hannah Fry, who’s usually reasonable value for the money.

By the way, the image for this episode was generated by a free AI image generator with the prompt:

a USA police car in front of a run-down, decrepit Victorian townhouse while overhead are many, many planes of different sizes and types

Yeah, I know. It looks a bit like the ‘Psycho’ house. At any moment, Anthony Perkins will appear with a carving knife. But - as ever - I’m uncontrite. This podcast is free at the point of delivery and unencumbered by adverts for therapy, waxing or athlete’s foot cream. So think on that.

Right. Let’s go wallowing in nostalgia with

Rising Damp (S 3 E 4: The Good Samaritan) on That’s TV, Friday 20 September, 8:30pm 

First, a quick shout out for channel That’s TV on Freeview. It appears to have cornered at least part of the market in old classic brit sitcoms. They also showed ‘Steptoe and son’ which I reviewed a few weeks ago, wondering if it was as funny - and as true - now as it was then. I concluded it was. In spades.

And I think the same about Rising Damp. It might not have the deep emotional truth of Steptoe, but it does have pathos and - on a good day - is wondrously funny. 

This episode - ‘The good Samaritan’ - is everything you want it to be. Sharp writing, perfect characterisation and a plot rapidly spiralling into the absurd. 

I stand in awe of such programs. Over 50 years ago, when I was a struggling scriptwriter, living in grotty bedsits, eating cabbage and moodily farting at bus conductors, my ambition was to write a successful TV comedy series. (Ha!) No chance. I simply couldn’t do it. True, I managed to write the odd humourous script, but sustaining this over a series ….? Nah.

I never managed to create a central character - or characters - with enough quirky depth. They quickly became one note, and for the most part only just managed to last for 30 minutes.

So, hats off to Eric Chappell, who created and wrote Rising Damp.

Again: as in Steptoe, a quick overview is in order. 

Rising Damp was a TV sitcom of the 1970s. It was, rightly, highly rated and hugely popular. It’s set in a dilapidated old house converted into small flats and bedsits. Rigsby, the landlord, lives in the basement with his cat, Vienna. There are 3 permanent residents. It is the interactions between the 4 of them, and the bizarre situations they get into that is the basis of the comedy.

The central character is undoubtedly Rigsby. He’s socially insecure, nervous, pompous, crap at everything, but with an overwhelming faith in his own abilities. A wonderful character, played with exquisite comic timing by Leonard Rossiter. The storylines nearly always begin and end with him, with the other characters drawn in, like rubber ducks circling around a plug hole.

This episode starts when a new tenant arrives, a Mr Grey. He’s sad, depressed and thoroughly down on his luck. He has an ambiguous conversation with Rigsby, in which suicide is hinted at. To paraphrase:

‘I’m going away soon, probably for ever.’

‘Oh? Somewhere warm?’

‘Not too warm, I hope.’

OK, with me saying it, it’s trite rather than funny. But when said by expert actors, within a rapidly developing comic plot and an audience ready to be entertained, it’s funny.

So, neatly, effortlessly, the plot is now in motion. Two of the lodgers, students Alan (Richard Beckinsale, playing it straight) and Philip (Don Warrington, being very superior) become involved. Rigsby rings the samaritans, who’ll send someone round once they’ve found the owner of a wooden leg.

(Ha!)

A wooden leg? Yep, with a suicide note pinned to it. So - obviously - someone is hopping - ho ho - around intent on self destruction. He has to be found, and stopped. So, at the moment, there’s no samaritans available.

We’re maybe 10 minutes in, and already the surreal is sticking its nose above the parapet.

Because the samaritan might be a little while, Rigsby goes to his third lodger, Miss Jones (Frances de la Tour, all honking, gushing delivery and barely concealed lust for any man other than Rigsby) and convinces her to go and have a chat with Mr Grey. This, as might be supposed, ends disastrously.

Later, Miss Jones has a problem with her stove. The man from the samaritans turns up and - seeing her with her head in the oven - immediately rushes to the rescue. A delighted Miss Jones thinks he’s the gas repair man and a delicious cross-purposed conversation takes place, completely stuffed with memorable lines. I firmly believe her delivery of ‘I experience a drop in pressure and everything goes flat.’ should be up there with ‘a handbag’ in the lexicon of comic delivery.

The pace quickens, becoming increasingly manic. Misunderstandings and kerfuffle pile one on another, like a self-breeding lasagna, culminating with the new tenant outside, clutching the chimney and Rigsby, Alan and Phillip, roped together like mountaineers, trying to reach him. Rigsby nearly falls off, is jerked back, and faints.

When he comes to, they’re all safely back inside, but then the samaritan bursts in with ambulance men and cart Rigsby away, thinking he is the potential suicide. (Ha!)

OK, so it’s silly and in some ways unimaginative, but you forget all that. Like all good farces, the pace drags you along, bashing aside reservations and any thought that your time could be better spent. It’s just you and your telly and a group of skilled actors treating a great script as if it were a serious play.

Which is undoubtedly the way to play comedy, and recognising this is the key to comic writing. It has often been said that once your characters are established, the comedy takes care of itself.

This is true and - in many regards - ‘Rising Damp’ proves it. Without Rigsby, it would be nothing.

Strongly, strongly recommended. Series record? you bet.

Now, you will have noticed a USA police car in the image for this episode.

That’s a reference to: 

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit (S 18 E 8: Chasing Theo) on 5USA, Friday 20 September, 10:00pm

Brit police procedurals are my go-to TV watch after a hard day doing nothing much more than cutting my toenails.

So watching a USA one will be interesting….

Well, now I’ve watched it, and it wasn’t. It was terrible. Crap. In fact, I’m quite tempted to finish this review now, with a sarky, pithy comment and a recommendation never to watch.

But as I like my podcasts to be around the 20 minute mark, I’d better keep going. (Huh!)

Well, ‘Law & Order: Special Victims Unit’ is so bad I’m not going to bother to give a spoiler alert. Because if you’ve already watched it, then you’re just listening to my opinion to either nod your head in agreement or to shout despairingly at the heavens. 

And if you haven’t watched well …. tough: jump to the next chapter now.

And yes, I do understand the inherent paradox of saying you’re not going to give a spoiler alert is, in fact, giving a spoiler alert. Something to do with two negatives making a positive. 

So, you have - or have not - been warned! (Ha!) Just writing this makes me feel better. A bit of verbal wit on the side. A few more sentences got down before having to return to this abysmal program.

Oh, OK. let’s take a step back. (errgghh) Let’s try to be positive. Well, it starts, it finishes, and in between it certainly keeps going. (Blurrgh!) I’m struggling here.

Tell you what, let’s start at the beginning. (Ha!)

As the credits come up, a low, urgent voice intones:

‘In the criminal justice system, sexually based offences are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the special victims unit. These are their stories.’

I mean, that’s pretentious infantile crap, isn’t it? A weird, Janet-and-John intro that makes me want to puke. Maybe it’s intended to make sure you know what you’re watching, in case you thought it was a documentary about goldfish, say.

This ridiculous babyish approach is repeated throughout the program: whenever the police go to a new location, a large, in-your-face caption comes up, giving the address. For gods’s sake, why?? Does this matter? No. Will we remember it? No. Is it meaningful in any way whatsoever? No. So why do it? I suppose they think it adds some kind of urgent authenticity to the proceedings. Well, I hate being spoonfed info as if I haven’t got a brain. Listen up, people: I do think. I am intelligent. I don’t need to be told irrelevant nonsense.

(Poof!)

The story, in itself, is fairly standard and not too bad, as these things go. A 6 year old boy goes missing. It looks like a kidnapping. The elite squad known - Sorry! (Repeat in low, urgent voice) ‘The elite squad known as the special victims unit’ swing into action. As is normal (on TV, but, I’m sure, not in real life) they don’t seem to have anything else to do. 

So the investigations start. The mother was holding a party when the boy vanished. So all the guests are questioned. There’s one or two dubious people, including a private eye who, it eventually transpires, is working for the mother’s ex partner, gathering evidence for a custody battle over the boy.

The ex partner turns up. She’s a woman, the couple were lesbian. Kudos to the program for not making too much of this. A plus! Hurrah!

The elite squad keep going, searching houses and following up clues. The mum weeps and wails. The ex-partner cries. The unit chief (who is also a mother to a 6 year old - oh, imagine that) manages to keep it together. 

I have to admit, by then I was just watching because I was watching. A bit like finishing a plate of rubbery, tasteless, non-nutritious food: you eat it because it’s there.

They get a break, and charge off to arrest the nanny, who abducted the boy out of love. She is convinced that he’d have a better life with her on her uncle’s Mexican farm. Goats and chickens instead of his flakey Mum. I have to say, I’m inclined to agree, but I don’t really care.

There’s still a few minutes left, but - unable to stand more soul searching - I switch off.

(Poof!)

And that’s about it, really: a police procedural that concentrates less on procedure, which can be interesting, and more on badly written emotions, which are not interesting. I have mentioned before how all long running programs can end up as poor soap operas? Well ‘Law & Order: Special Victims Unit’ has soapoperaitis in spades.  

Needless to say: not recommended. series record? (ha ha!) you’re joking, aren’t you.

Well, writing that was invigorating. In fact - in an oddly unintuitive way - I’m now feeling quite upbeat. Oh, it would be good if this mood continues with: 

City in the Sky on BBC2, Saturday 21 September, 10:00am

This is not, as I had hoped, about some floating city drifting hither and thither over a sci-fi landscape. Now that would have been interesting. But a documentary exploring the feasibility of floating a couple of million people on a giant platform among the clouds would be very short: after all, floating cities are as unlikely as the Wizard of Oz.

Nope. ‘City in the sky’ is just a catchy title for an interesting but ultimately very very depressing documentary about commercial flights in jet aircraft. There are, apparently, about 100 thousand flights a day. Global maps are shown, smothered in icons of airplanes and flight paths. 

It’s presented by science broadcaster Dallas Campbell and mathematician Dr Hannah Fry, who both obviously enjoy hopping on planes and flying to distant places.

But - as one of them says without a trace of ironic humour: ‘what goes up must come down.’ So we start with a jet flying past mount Everest on the way to land at Bhutan airport. This involves dodging mountains and following valleys and only actually seeing the landing strip seconds before touchdown. A truly impressive feat.

So, having done the obligatory dramatic opening, we potter off to look at Atlanta’s airport, with 5 runways and an ingenious bypass system that allows a plane to land every 30 seconds. Dr Fry chats with an air traffic controller before joining a runway inspector looking for ‘foreign object debris’. He stops, clambers out and picks up a metallic nut about the size of his thumb. She congratulates him on his eyesight. 

Air travel is set to double within 20 years. How will airports cope? And we’ll need more pilots.

So time for Dallas to jump into a cockpit. ‘I’ve got to remember', he says ‘how to fly a Boeing 737’. He presses buttons and moves levers. An impressive dashboard springs into life, the ground disappears beneath them. Wow! Dallas is a man of many talents. (Haha!)

Nah, he’s fooling no one. It’s a flight simulator at Stansted Airport. A cabin sized cabin on hydraulic legs. Informative, but all rather obvious. 

Then Dr Fry scoots off to Bangor, in Maine. A smallish town boasting an international airport with a runway 2 miles long, 24/7 fire crews and deserted escalators.

It’s an emergency landing strip for any planes getting into trouble over the Atlantic ocean. Dressed in a fetching tinfoil overall, Dr. Fry takes part in a fire crew exercise, squirting stuff at an imaginary fire.

But what if they can’t make it to the airport? Well, this, of course, means they can show grainy images of a plane splashing down on a river. Yep, it’s the landing in the Hudson: no documentary about planes is complete without it. I’m only surprised they didn’t shoehorn in footage of the Wright brothers at Kitty Hawk.

And so the program powers along its predictable course. A visit to a Rolls Royce facility, which monitors their jet engines, then a look at aircraft maintenance and - in a fun interlude - they go to a German lost luggage auction and buy a couple of bags of clothing. They were hoping for laptops and iPhones.

We’re getting near the end now, so it’s time for a quick visit to the Arizona desert to look at mothballed jets. Strangely, they didn’t say how the jets got there, or how they leave. Are there giant jet transporters? Or perhaps a nearby airport? 

It finishes, sort of, at a jet graveyard, with a huge crusher literally tearing jet carcases apart. A giant plane, capable of flying hundreds of people thousands of miles, is reduced to a pitifully small pile of detritus. 

Then - as a sort of coda, or more descriptively, a tiny fig leaf on this celebration of air transport - a look at more environmentally friendly forms of air flight. An enormous airship, the size of a football pitch, will carry 48 passengers at 90 miles an hour. 48 passengers? 90 mph? Oh, that is really going to frighten the likes of Airbus. And there are some experimental electric planes. But nothing, nothing at all, that looks remotely like challenging a bloody great jet.

And that’s what I find depressing about this program. OK, so air transport technology is impressive, the engineering awesome and the overall functioning truly astonishing. But, hey! Look: climate change is racing towards us. What use is a jet when runways are flooded and passengers hard pressed to feed themselves, let alone fly off to distant beaches for a suntan and a disgusting drink served in a plastic coconut?

But (sigh) I’m tired of being a killjoy about climate change. And I’m sure my regular listeners are too. Once or twice a month I bang on about it. Crying in the wilderness. Everyone seems to care, but no one’s doing anything substantive about it. While our icebergs are melting fast, we’re moving with glacial speed. 

It scares me solid, it really does. I haven’t flown for 10 years or so, and that’s partly because I hate to think of sitting in a cylinder spewing poison onto the clouds below. That and a dislike of travel anyway. After all, why travel abroad to be miserable when you can be miserable at home?  

And that massive misquote from Peter Cook concludes the reviews for this episode of ‘I Review Freeview.’

Next time, I will review:

Secret Crush (S 2 E 5) on ITV2, Thursday 26 September, 10:00am 

Killer In My Village (S 7 E 1: Freda Walker) on Sky Mix, Thursday 26 September, 11:00pm

The Kid (1921) on Sky Arts, Friday 27 September, 2:00pm

So, here we go for another eclectic mix: a .. erm … game show? A reality program? In truth, I’m hoping for mind-boggling ineptitude and fist in mouth embarrassment, but who knows? ‘Secret Crush’ could be another ‘dress to impress’ a program I reviewed in one of my early episodes. I was expecting it to be dire, but in fact, I loved it. Plus, what appears to be a dramadoc about small town murders, so could be interesting. And, to finish, a silent, black and white Charlie Chaplin classic. How does that appear now, a 103 years later? 

As ever, contact me via email to contact@IReviewFreeview.com or through the website IReviewFreeview.com where you can also click on the page ‘What’s up next.’ to see what programs I’ll be reviewing next time.

Thank you for listening, and goodbye for now.