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The dark ages

I had an interesting conversation with Mrs Coastalblog a couple of nights ago, which revealed a certain, hitherto-unrealised difference in the way we approach what we want to watch on those rare occasions when we're at home at the same time and there's nothing more pressing to do. Having been meaning to get round to it for ages, we finally sat down to check out the first episode of the Beeb's alternative-future drama, Years and Years. No spoilers here, because it's worth a watch and I wouldn't want to spoil it for you; but whilst we both agreed it was excellent, brilliantly acted and intriguingly plotted, I was all for watching another one, and she said that she never wants to see it again.

I was slightly surprised by this, as Mrs Coastalblog and I generally enjoy fairly similar things, and this was, she admitted, engaging, interesting, well-made telly; but over the course of our post-match analysis it emerged that the reason that she didn't want to see it again was that it was just a bit too accurate, a touch too close to the mark. In Mrs Coastalblog's words: "I know the world's going to shit, I don't need to see a programme about it."

It was an interesting position, and not one that I'm inclined to dismiss (despite being aware that the world's going to shit, I don't mind watching a programme about it, myself, but that's just me), it is difficult, if you're paying even the slightest bit of attention, to be particularly sanguine about what Paul McCartney memorably dubbed "This ever-changing world in which we're living" (Not "in which we live in" grammar fans, that's a regular misnomer that a certain sort of huffing middle-aged male regularly gets wrong, likewise all those who bang on about Alanis Morrisette's Ironic not being Ironic need to re-read the definition of situational irony, and find something less silly to get annoyed about). With the effects of man-made climate change becoming more apparent with each flood and heatwave, with the descent into chaos of our political systems and the wholesale destruction of the post-war law-based liberal consensus, with America retreating into some mythical Biblical past, China flexing its muscles and India indulging in some entertaining experiments in racist nationalism it's hard to escape the feeling that things are irretrievably up the spout.

This, I should add at this point, is not a view I share, not the up the spout part, which is fairly self-evident, but the irretrievable part, which is possibly why I don't mind watching Years and Years, but more of this later. My point is that I think drama's ability to hold a mirror to society is something to be celebrated, and I enjoy a good dissection of The State of Things as an accompaniment to my evening. I was reminded particularly of Years and Years by the farcical, childish behaviour of the Brexit party MEPs turning their back during the playing of Ode to Joy, an empty gesture which pays well with bigots, precisely the sort of thing which Emma Thompson's populist politician would approve of in the drama. This is a perfect image of the current state of our politics, a performative refusal to engage, a moment designed to appeal to their army of social media warriors, and enrage their opponents to an equal degree (it's worked though, hasn't it? I mean here I am blogging about it). The coarsening and cheapening of public discourse is a subject which has doubtless launched a raft of phds over the last couple of years, and with this almost unbelievably petulant gesture, the Brexit Party managed to engineer a moment which could well define it.

Likewise, the adaptation of Margaret Atwood's Handmaid's Tale, a TV sensation of recent vintage, is also turning out to be slightly more on the money than many would have thought not that long ago. The rolling back of women's reproductive rights in an increasingly puritanical US has seen a case being brought in Alabama in which a woman who was shot in the stomach is being prosecuted for the death of her foetus (under Alabama's new definitions of abortion law, a woman is responsible for the health and safety of the foetus, and can be charged if the foetus dies, in this case the woman started the fight in which she was shot - thus, according to the state of Alabama, wilfully endangering her unborn child). That women's bodies are no longer their own in parts of the US isn't a matter of eerie dystopian fiction, it's a matter of present day fact, a woman is less important than the collection of cells she carries at nine weeks. Nine weeks, a period of time in which it's entirely possible to be unaware that you're even pregnant. This assertion of male power over female bodies is entirely in keeping with Atwood's chilling world.

Seen in this light I understand entirely Mrs Coastalblog's desire to turn the TV off and ignore the dramas, one could argue that it's a sane and rational response. But as I alluded to before, I don't exactly see it that way, possibly I'm a deluded optimist, but I see enough resistance to the forces that want to drag us into a new dark ages to enable me to enjoy the dramas for what they are, works of fiction. Real life is a different matter altogether, and probably a different blog post altogether, but the fight's here, and it's now and it's upon us, so it is incumbent upon us all to remain engaged, and to keep pushing for an ever-changing world in which we want to live in...(sorry). I'd rather that the dramas didn't become true, and I'll do what I can to make that happen....so I can sit back down and enjoy another episode without thinking of it as documentary..

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