- Awards
- 46
Episodes 191 - 195
28 August - 11 September 1984
28 August - 11 September 1984
Poor George. He really is a man in way over his head. I find his predicament far more troubling than most of those yet seen in the series because for me he’s the epitome of the everyman. Which in turn is because I connect with his usually-placid nature, more than I do jovial, smart-talking Bobby, brash Harry or (much of the time) pompous Paul.
This week’s scenes have seen him spiralling downwards first into grim obsession with finding Tommy McArdle (doing all the things he’s been advised against, from going to The Swan to being seen with his alleged co-conspirator), then into a deep void of depression fuelled by hopelessness.
What this story has done really well is bringing together different cultural worlds that usually avoid one another’s orbits. It’s effectively a consequence of a series of almost coincidental associations that wouldn’t exist if one or two of Brookside’s episodes to date had played out differently. Of course there’s a lot of regret from George about speaking to McArdle and being naïvely duped into drawing the diagram. But we could go back way further and change any of a number of given moments and he may not be in this predicament: George would barely have known Barry if not for Terry’s relationship with Michelle; none of which would have existed if they weren’t living where they live now; which only happened because Gavin then Petra died… and so it goes.
Barry’s black market dealings have long made him part of a criminal subculture. Terry’s invariably part of the same world with varying degrees of willingness. But each has an understanding of that subculture’s rules. George doesn’t. He’s a man whose life is lived by a healthy moral compass, with his optimistic nature reflected in his earnest desire to reason with Tommy and put his cards on the table.
On paper, George getting beaten by McArdle in the gents’ toilets* is horrific: where else on the British soapscape of the time would one see this happen? The most surprising aspect of the scene for me is that in context the inevitability desensitised me from any sense of horror. The scene wasn’t about George taking a physical battering, but an emotional one. It wasn’t about the way McArdle sent his message, but about the message itself: George was on his own.
It’s a frightening situation in which to see a character placed. Frequently in soap there’s a slightly interactive element: thoughts might spring to mind about what choices a character might have made to prevent/alter/improve a situation. Here, though, there are closed doors in every direction and the audience - like George himself - has to fall back on the slim hope that the judicial system will be able to find the needle of truth in a haystack of damning circumstantial evidence.
Marie is on fire at the moment, fists clenched and mouth open as she bellows about the injustice not anyone who’ll listen, and gives anyone with a glimmer of doubt a good talking to.
It’s easy to see why this story was such a gripping one back in 1984. Which makes it feel even more wrong that I don’t even remember this registering on my one and only previous experience during repeats some thirty years ago.
Over at Number Five, Karen has been found out. First Sheila read her like a book and challenged her about her trip to the Lake District. Then Bobby found photos of Karen with Andrew, rather than the friends she claimed were with her.
I found both their reactions great, but Sheila’s in particular felt surprising. Considering her strong Catholic faith, I thought she’d have come down on her like a ton of bricks, but there’s a strong sense of support. Part of me wonders how wise it is of her to trust Karen almost without reservation, but at the same time it’s really sweet. She’s also highlighted the double-standards Bobby has compared with attitudes towards his sons’ sexual behaviours, with Damon currently in London (presumably staying Walford way with Sharon Watts) and Bobby cackling at the prospect of him getting some sex education from visiting Soho.
Bobby has been less happy about Karen’s time under canvas with a hormonal young biker but, like Sheila, the characters’ histories inform their coming to terms with it. Karen reminded Sheila about the business with Jack Boswell, and the fact that Bobby had hit her during the fallout. It’s a case of the best defence being a good offence, but there’s no doubt that it gave Sheila some food for thought.
After some shouting and sulking, Bobby, too, has come round after being reminded by Sheila that this time things are different.
As always, it’s good to see such heated differences of opinions aired by the Grants. The scene I found most quietly impactful was one in which Karen’s boyfriend Andrew quietly apologises to Bobby for deceiving him. It’s not the first such scene - we’ve been here before after Andrew’s bike ploughed into pregnant Sheila - but it’s played for complete truth and feels very real, sincere and genuine.
Andrew’s almost throwaway statement that he realises Bobby might feel concerned about losing Karen to him as she grows up really strike a chord. It’s not really about this situation, but about daddy’s little girl becoming a woman with a mind and life of her own. The fact that this all happens on Karen’s 18th birthday
I also loved the lead-up to it, with Bobby swallowing his pride and making baby steps towards making peace with Karen by allowing Andrew into the house, even though he can’t bring himself to speak at first. Then there’s some bonding/teasing discussion over football teams and the like, before the conversation takes place later on. Ricky Tomlinson really shines in this whole arc.
Michelle has returned from her beautician’s course and apparently collided with the Eighties along the way. As well as a wardrobe that could only be from the middle of this decade, she’s joined Damon in mulletville. And she’s also given poor Heather a heavy-handed makeover with the recipient being inexplicably delighted with the results (let's face it, though... Amanda Burton is a stunner whichever which way she's painted).
More Eightiesness when Edna covets “white with a touch of pink” for the walls of the bungalow. I have memories of going to DIY stores around this time and seeing aisles of paints that were “white with a touch of [colour]” or had names like “Apple White”. The Crosses are due to move in “tomorrow”, so I’m not quite sure how it’s all happening with the chain. They clearly don’t have a buyer since Heather has now planted the seed of Harry becoming a landlord. All of which means we’re getting closer and closer to the era where I first discovered the series.
* Filming it in real-life, well-used pub toilets with the actor spending the latter part of the scene practically sitting in a ground-level urinal adds to the gritty reality. Something about it evoked Scum or something. It also reminds me of a scene from The Supergrass - the following year’s feature film from The Comic Strip team - which had a scene which has forever made me keep my guard up whenever using a urinal.
