Right now, my tv screen at home offers me lots of award-winning drama series. I can choose from work that is iconic, hard-hitting, harrowing, meaningful, stylish, impactful and state-of-the-nation, all in a long or very long series of episodes. Some nights the tv experience is less like watching and more like bravely facing one hard story or another and, frankly, sometimes I feel - yes, lucky me to have the choice - I'd like to look away from big world issues for a moment. All of which is why, when I saw that the new series of MUM was starting, I felt quiet joy.
If you have never seen an episode, MUM is (almost) a traditional suburban sitcom series: Cathy, an amiable, widowed middle-aged mum is surrounded by all the much-louder characters in her family who need her there for them in one way or another. Will she be able or allowed to move on? Will a happy relationship with Michael, her late husband's best friend, even be possible?
MUM's charm and poignancy comes from the fine scriptwriting of BAFTA winning Stefan Golazewski as well as the marvellously subtle acting of Lesley Manville and . All the other characters chatter on, mostly about little things, but the whole script is tense with scriptwriter's gold: what is not being said. Almost wordlessly, Manville's face conveys the run of conflicting emotions, tensions, patience and quiet amusement that flicker quietly throug her mind. MUM is a half-hour of quiet pleasure and gentle, painful stasis
Any trendy, super-geeky ABBA blog-reader can yawn at MUM's lack of cutting-edgeness now, okay?
However, the series also works because the scriptwriter has created a great choice of outer and inner characters. Then, as I went through MUM's inspired circle of characters - each one allowed their own small social agonies - I suddenly wondered if - perhaps - maybe - possibly the neediness of each particular character relates to the emotions of the writing life.
Jason, Cathy's son, a twenty-something-man-boy, communicates through almost meaningless phrases, full of puzzled resentment because another man might matter to his mum.
Jason reminded me a little of the voiceless panic one can feel when a familiar editor or agent moves on, or there's a round of changes at a publishers and that pattern you've begun to rely on become unsure. You know the feeling is illogical and "just what happens" but you can't help being a bit miffed.
Kelly, Jason's pretty, wittering, dependent, almost-annoying girlfriend, has very little confidence and is constantly unsure what to do.
Kelly is pure anxiety: the fear of being useless, of being unable to write the right words or any words, of feeling that you're in the wrong or noticeably stupid for even attempting to do this work or deal with any new challenges.
Derek, Cathy's large, loud younger brother, is desperately aware of not being big or good or clever enough. He never knows the right way to behave or words to say when he's in social situations. (See Pauline, below)
Oh Derek! How often, going to all sorts of writing events, does one feel unsure of what to say or how to act? even more so during party/awards seasons, when so many Big Names seem to know each other? (Thank heavens for the Scattered Authors Society network!) Or, even more ridiculous, to feel unsure because you haven't even been asked along?
Pauline, Derek's snobbish girlfriend is the unsympathetic character one wants to hiss and boo. She constantly twists Derek round and puts him Derek down. Yet Pauline needs Cathy, She needs to feel she is more knowledgeable, superior andsuccessful person than the "ordinary" Cathy. Meanwhile, Cathy, half-amused, shrugs off all the boasting and gets on with whatever needs doing.
Pauline is a dire warning.As a solitary writer, one can become preoccupied and impressed by successes when the everyday work is what matters. We need to be more Cathy at heart, less Pauline in temper.
Reg and Maureen, the dead husband's elderly, bickering parents are constantly going on about their poor health and bemused by modern technology, They are starting to need Cathy in all sorts of practical ways.
Reg and Maureen are a reminder about look after ourselves and making the most out of life. How long have I been sitting at my desk today? How many biscuits did I eat today? And how to keep up with technology? Keep learning, keep asking people and keep open to the world around you.
Michael, the best and faithful friend of the deceased husband, is in love with Cathy and seems to represent comfort and a rather uncertain hope that all will be well.
Michael also represents that there's sometimes the need to mqke a move, to step beyond the usual zone and be more of yourself, no matter how some others respond. Time to speak and do something - or so we hope.
Finally, as for the character of the warmly enigmatic Cathy?
Cathy is practical, sensible, kindly, us at our wise core, keeping all these unsettled emotions and troubled impulses in balance.
Cathy represents - I hope - our own good sense, our personal balance and our ability to rise above all that the writing life sets stirring beneath the surface.But she is also trapped and afraid of stirring up things better left unexplored. How brave to we have to be in our work? How loudly can she, herself, speak out?
A circle of conflicting characters indeed . . .
Heavens, I hope all this ruminating makes some kind of sense to you - and that you might speak to me afterwards too! If not, maybe pop into your screen for time with a wild priest, a bloody corpse and/or another soul in some dramatic torment . . .
Happy watching and working!
Penny Dolan
7 comments:
I definitely agree with your opening comment: so much pain, misery, corruption, self-doubt on TV - mostly all fantastically well-written. But sometimes I want a change, which is why Genevieve and 40s films get played a lot on DVD. I hadn't heard of Mum. Now I'll look out for it.
Thanks, Nick. There is something glorious about the optimism in those 40's films - when it wasn't such a great time either, come to think of it. :-)
The current (and last) series of Mum is set in an enormously posh modern house that Pauline has booked for a celebration, so the characters are all "trapped" in one place - yes, that dramatic tradition - rather than in the early series when most of them popped in on Mum from their various homes.
I haven't seen 'Mum' because it didn't sound like my cup of tea -- still doesn't, if I'm honest -- but this is a brilliant blog on it, Penny. Enjoyed reading it.
I binge watched it last week - brilliant! And I love the way you you write about it here, Penny - thank you.
Lovely blog Penny.
I've not see it but it make me think about all those 'quiet' books people talk about. There is nothing wrong with 'quiet' particularly if it makes one think, as this obviously has done.
I would probably have skipped past this series, but now I am curious, and I love your analysis of the characters and connecting them to a writer's perspective. Will go and have a look!
thanks Penny
I must watch this new series - I loved the first two - I thought the acting and the script were amazing and full of love (and also, sometimes, very painful to watch!) This is a great blog post.
Thanks Anne and everyone. It seems "light" but the inbuilt tensions and the interrupted moments of hope do make the episodes very painful to watch and in a recognisably realistic-life way. A good lesson in script-writing, ie how the words don't tell the story: the real drama is carried in between the lines.
(ie Not in that tense semi-fantasy "handsome bodyguard in a London square taped to a detonator" kind of way; or "person trapped in cellar/storeroom/woods" genre either.)
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