Blog post #9
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
‘Good-morning,’ and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich – yes, richer than a king –
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
I recently discovered this Edward Arlington Robinson poem, one of many included in Gyles Brandreth’s poetry anthology Dancing by The Light of the Moon: How poetry can transform your memory and change your life. Perhaps it’s because the various revelations in the news have invaded most of my thoughts, but I couldn’t help connect Richard Cory with Meghan Markle: two exceedingly privileged figures, holding opulent facades that cover their dark emotions.
The Oprah interview with Meghan and Harry was broadcast in the UK on Monday, spawning a lot of love and hate (depending on certain loyalties). When Meghan stated that living with the Royal Family pushed her into a space of not wanting to live anymore, there was a lot of fury and support. Much of the former came from Piers Morgan, who adores releasing his overdramatic anger any way he can, no matter who he hurts. He said that he didn’t believe anything Meghan said, echoing the views of many on social media who claimed her appearance was a performance. Although I believe freedom of speech is essential in a democratic society, one can appreciate the harm of not taking suicidal thoughts seriously. I’ve known people who’ve either contemplated or attempted suicide, and the idea that they could’ve been more at risk because of an angry white monarchist, who thankfully ‘quit’ his post at Good Morning Britain, is painful to consider.
It’s also worth remembering that wealth and power don’t equal happiness. Sure, they omit many of the obstacles that the less privileged have to struggle through, but the most affluent figures are often the most depressed. The lonely, empty, imprisoned, and racially alienated life of Meghan Markle (as she claims) doesn’t sound like an especially lovely fate for anyone, despite all the pretences she had to uphold for the rancidly sacred institution of the monarchy.
The issue of belief and non-belief rose again in the wake of Sarah Everard, whose remains were found on Friday. Her disappearance spurred an outpouring of revelations from women afraid to walk alone at night. The distressing statistic that 97% of women have been sexually harassed, and that many in that percentage won’t report it, called into question the male responsibility in all this. Predictably, this spurred the redundant Twitter hashtag #notallmen.
Before Covid, I have felt uncomfortable walking behind women alone at night because of their possible discomfort. Some people online advise, in these instances, to cross the road or make yourself known to put her at ease. They also recommend you make way for a woman if she’s walking towards you and doesn’t change direction. That advice doesn’t really consider disabled men like me – often I can’t simply move out the way – but the message seems reasonable enough for nondisabled men to follow.
In any case, I don’t think it’s ethical to automatically disbelieve these stories or tiptoe away from any responsibility. Reality gets confused behind big cameras and badly made video posts, but look at the evidence from reputable sources and it’s quite clear. And if you’re content with exercising your valuable privilege of free speech to mock the severity of suicide or sexual assault, then just remember that your words could be invisibly harming a friend, a partner, or a family member who’s still keeping their secret safe from view.
As a kind of side note to the above, the film writer Ella Kemp – with whom I used to work at Culture Whisper – wrote an incredible piece for Letterboxd News about cinematic depictions of sexual assault in film. As somebody who takes a generally libertarian view on creating fiction, the stories in this piece opened my mind a bit. There are no easy or clear-cut answers to these issues, but discussing them is incredibly important. When you have some time, please read it.
HIGHLIGHT OF THE WEEK
Oprah with Meghan and Harry, ITV
I thought I’d be bored within 10 minutes and switch off. I’ve seen some American reality shows, and I assumed the entire interview would be organised like ants in a shaken jar: the editing accelerated, and the shots overdramatised. Turns out, it was quaintly measured – patient, kind. It’s like the polar opposite to Piers Morgan’s interview style.
By the nature of TV, I thought some gestures and mannerisms were artificial, but the questions and answers felt utterly sincere to me. I stayed there for the entire two hours, absorbed in the revelations. The experience was elevated in the certainty that millions of others were watching this damning indictment of the Royal Family. I still find it bizarre that people take the side of the Royals, who are no strangers to scandal, but each to their own. In any case, this is one of the most significant TV events of the year: dismantling ancient systems that people hold so tightly and/or cultishly to their hearts.
Other highlights:
I know algorithms aren’t popular among critics, but how else would I have found the 2012 Danish series Rita on Netflix? I’m always searching for decent but light comedies that can steal me away, especially given the escalating and depressing events of this week, and Rita really delivers. The comedy-drama follows a hedonistic schoolteacher, in her forties with three kids and still acting like a petulant teenager. She redeems herself in her work, where she’s an excellent teacher (give or take a few dated moments, which didn’t land with me): taking no shit from parents or anyone on the staff… while also sleeping with the headteacher.
Rita, Netflix
I’ve recently finished the fifth season of Line of Duty. It took me two weeks to finish all five seasons, preparing for season 6 (starting on 21 March). But season 5 might be my favourite, it’s certainly on par with season 3. But the former has Stephen Graham, one of my favourite British actors working at the moment. In 2019, he starred in Line of Duty, The Irishman, The Virtues, and Steven Knight’s bleak BBC adaptation of A Christmas Carol – all incredible. (I feel that too few people have seen The Virtues, so please watch on All4 if you haven’t.)
I caught up with the recent South Park Pandemic and Vaccination specials. I always have a tinge of guilt when watching the series now, since I believe in much of the political correctness mentality that they love to mock. However, the political satire is so daring and funny – touching on so many seriously uncomfortable truths – that I can’t help but enjoy it. I feel the Pandemic special was much funnier, perhaps because it’s so rancid. I can understand people hating the show, and I can’t see myself enjoying some of the more dated episodes, but I loved these specials; they’re like a cathartic release.
South Park, Comedy Central
I’m always happy when Bake-Off, in whatever form, comes back. This time, it’s the celebrity edition for Stand Up to Cancer. I love seeing Rob Beckett and Tom Allen together, who are both comedians and both knew each other at school. Alexandra Burke was also on; I don’t think I’ve seen her on telly since she won X-Factor all those years ago (back when I still watched X-Factor). And there’s Daisy Ridley, who seemed delightfully down to earth and easy to love. With everything happening in the world, watching celebrities fail and succeed at baking ridiculous treats is a sweet and welcome escape.
What I’ve written this week:
My review for Dealer. Any series or movie that approaches action in a different way is always worth a watch, even when they’re not entirely successful. The effort is valuable. I felt that when watching this French found-footage thriller, which follows a music-video director filming a gangster-rapper in a dodgy neighbourhood. It’s split into 10 ten-minute episodes, a common format in these lockdown days. The premise is never entirely fulfilled, the ending something of a let-down, but it’s still a bingeworthy curiosity on Netflix.
I wrote up a preview for The Underground Railroad, the upcoming Barry Jenkins adaptation of the Colson Whitehead novel. This could be a potential series of the year, so I encourage you to watch out for it. It drops on Amazon Prime on 14 May.
Adam Driver and Lady Gaga in House of Gucci
If you have any form of social media, you’ve probably seen the now-famous photo of Adam Driver and Lady Gaga hanging in front of the Italian alps. But this isn’t a forbidden pandemic holiday, it’s a taste of Ridley Scott’s new film House of Gucci. It’s based on the true story of Maurizio Gucci (Driver) and his subsequent assassination, organised by his ex-wife Patrizia Reggiani (Gaga). I wrote a short piece about the film.
The new ITV detective drama Grace is disappointing, particularly when considering John Simm is involved. Life On Mars was always a zenith of British telly, but Simm is rather mundane here - exacerbated by a 90-minute runtime (2 hours with ad-breaks). It ticks the crime-drama boxes, but offers nothing new. Here’s my review.
