As Michael Jackson's legacy returns to the limelight, can we truly separate the art from the artist?
He’s been dead for 17 years and accusations of child abuse still linger – so why can’t we get eno
Add Michael Jackson: an American Tragedy to your watchlist It is 40 years since Michael Jackson was at his celestial height and a lot of murky water has passed under the bridge of his legacy since, but it appears he’s back. Next month sees the arrival of the biopic Michael. Made by the producer of Bohemian Rhapsody and supported by the Jackson family with his nephew Jaafar in the title role, it has the rights to all the music and will undoubtedly make millions. Meanwhile, this week you can see the start of a new three-part BBC documentary, Michael Jackson: an American Tragedy, charting the star’s rise, fall and resurrection, another entertainment Icarus who fatally soared too high. First, the film. Fans will get to relive the early years of his evolution from Jackson 5 child prodigy to solo megastar. The biggest peril? Striking out from his family, especially father Joe, to become the biggest artist in music history. If only the story could finish there… oh, it does. The biopic stops conveniently short of the later, less glittering chapters: child abuse allegations in 1993 settled out of court, a brief marriage to Elvis’s daughter, the Martin Bashir doc that led to an abuse trial, and acquittal, finally wandering the world penniless before his death in 2009, an event that saw his doctor jailed. That’s enough for a sequel. In 2019, Wade Robson and James Safechuck spoke in the documentary Leaving Neverland about their years of alleged abuse at Jackson’s hands. Facing backlash from fans, they still pursue their day in court. Their lawyers say they seek justice; the lawyers for the star’s estate say they seek money – because there’s a lot of it. Jackson died $500 million in debt – this, despite owning the Beatles catalogue, as well as creating Thriller, is astonishing in itself – but the coffers were soon refilled. Blurry rehearsal footage covering preparation for Jackson’s 50 planned “This is It” London gigs in 2009 and 2010 was stitched together and became the biggest “concert movie” ever, just four months after its frontman had perished. MJ: The Musical plus continuing royalties make for an estate that’s now worth over $2 billion. What should we take from all of this? That, unlike, say Gary Glitter, there is just enough of a whiff of doubt about Jackson’s crimes for us to hold our noses and take to the dancefloor at the first beats of Billie Jean? Or that his gift of music is too good for us to deprive ourselves with any ethical concerns? But then we remember that that gift was what prosecutors say gave him opportunity and means to transgress. While moral mazers and die-hard fans continue to scratch their chins about loving the art while deriding the artist, the only certainty that pervades every scene of the BBC doc is just how weird Jackson’s life was at every stage: his fans’ enchantment nothing short of cultish, and the contradiction between this and his clear self-loathing; and self-worship; and self-sabotage. The best bits are watching the craftsman at work – footage of Jackson developing the moonwalk on his own at home is still thrilling. The most significant contributor is a Rabbi who remembers telling the star, “You’re addicted to fame, and you’ve substituted it for this cheap forgery called attention.” Michael will draw hordes of fans, desperate to relive the early years of Jackson’s flight to the sun, while Robson and Safechuck have been given a trial date for November 2026. For them, as for the rest of us, the jury remains out.
With a major film biopic and a new three-part BBC documentary this month, the controversial superstar is back in the spotlight.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. It is 40 years since Michael Jackson was at his celestial height and a lot of murky water has passed under the bridge of his legacy since, but it appears he’s back. Next month sees the arrival of the biopic Michael. Made by the producer of Bohemian Rhapsody and supported by the Jackson family with his nephew Jaafar in the title role, it has the rights to all the music and will undoubtedly make millions. Meanwhile, next week you can see the start of a new three-part BBC documentary, Michael Jackson: An American Tragedy, charting the star’s rise, fall and resurrection, another entertainment Icarus who fatally soared too high. First, the film. Fans will get to relive the early years of his evolution from Jackson 5 child prodigy to solo megastar. The biggest peril? Striking out from his family, especially father Joe, to become the biggest artist in music history. If only the story could finish there... oh, it does. The biopic stops conveniently short of the later, less glittering chapters: child abuse allegations in 1993 settled out of court, a brief marriage to Elvis’s daughter, the Martin Bashir doc that led to an abuse trial, and acquittal, finally wandering the world penniless before his death in 2009, an event that saw his doctor jailed. That’s enough for a sequel. View Green Video on the source website In 2019, Wade Robson and James Safechuck spoke in the documentary Leaving Neverland about their years of alleged abuse at Jackson’s hands. Facing backlash from fans, they still pursue their day in court. Their lawyers say they seek justice; the lawyers for the star’s estate say they seek money – because there’s a lot of it. Jackson died $500 million in debt – this, despite owning the Beatles catalogue, as well as creating Thriller, is astonishing in itself – but the coffers were soon refilled. Blurry rehearsal footage covering preparation for Jackson’s 50 planned “This is It” London gigs in 2009 and 2010 was stitched together and became the biggest “concert movie” ever, just four months after its frontman had perished. MJ: The Musical plus continuing royalties make for an estate that’s now worth over $2 billion. What should we take from all of this? That, unlike, say Gary Glitter, there is just enough of a whiff of doubt about Jackson’s crimes for us to hold our noses and take to the dancefloor at the first beats of Billie Jean? Or that his gift of music is too good for us to deprive ourselves with any ethical concerns? But then we remember that that gift was what prosecutors say gave him opportunity and means to transgress. While moral mazers and die-hard fans continue to scratch their chins about loving the art while deriding the artist, the only certainty that pervades every scene of the BBC doc is just how weird Jackson’s life was at every stage: his fans’ enchantment nothing short of cultish, and the contradiction between this and his clear self-loathing; and self-worship; and self-sabotage. The best bits are watching the craftsman at work – footage of Jackson developing the moonwalk on his own at home is still thrilling. The most significant contributor is a Rabbi who remembers telling the star, “You’re addicted to fame, and you’ve substituted it for this cheap forgery called attention.” Michael will draw hordes of fans, desperate to relive the early years of Jackson’s flight to the sun, while Robson and Safechuck have been given a trial date for November 2026. For them, as for the rest of us, the jury remains out. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Michael Jackson: An American Tragedy airs at 9pm on Wednesday 8 April on BBC Two and iPlayer. Michael is in cinemas from 22 April Check out more of our Film coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
12 actors who are the unsung heroes of British TV - from The Night Manager stars to former Coronation Street femme fatale
My hymn to the unsung heroes (and heroines) of British TV.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. Whenever the board game Guess Who? came out of the cupboard on a rainy Sunday afternoon, my heart sank. Somehow, I always got Claire and often, after a single question – “Does your character wear glasses and a hat with a flower?” – the game was lost (Eric with his sailor’s hat was another non-starter). Lucky was the player who got Herman – often overlooked, but invariably still standing long after others had gone by the wayside. Sometimes, looking ordinary is extraordinarily effective. With this in mind, I invite you to cast your eye over the 12 actors pictured on this page; I bet you recognise them all, but how many can you name? They’re the Hermans of British TV: familiar faces, not household names. The list could be a lot longer, and excludes those who have deservedly graduated to the Premier League: Siobhan Finneran, Indira Varma, Mark Bonnar and the always wonderful Victoria Hamilton, who takes the title role in the new series of The Teacher this week on 5. For now, I salute this deserving dozen… Patrick Baladi is probably best known as David Brent’s leather-jacketed nemesis, Neil. Amelia Bullmore has been everything from Alan Partridge’s Ukrainian girlfriend Sonja to Sherlock’s dodgy scientist. A relatively recent entry, Amir El-Masry broke through on TV in The Night Manager, before roles in McMafia, Industry and The Crown. The Missing actor Anastasia Hille’s TV career began in 1992 with Red Dwarf; she now also runs a ceramics studio. Another Night Manager alumnus is Sex Education’s Alistair Petrie. Some have cornered the market in a particular kind of British bloke. For a ruffled Army colonel, look no further than Rupert Vansittart. If you’re after a dodgy geezer, Danny Webb is your man. For someone whose posh affability ill-hides a lack of moral compass, there’s Doctor Foster’s Adam James. Three longtime favourites include Sylvestra Le Touzel, who made her debut, aged 10, in Doctor Who, and specialises in establishment figures like The Crown’s Lady Macmillan. Adrian Lukis has popped up in everything from Prime Suspect to Poldark, although he’ll never fully escape the shadow of the bounder Mr Wickham in the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice. Over a 50-year career, Angela Bruce has moved from Angels to Casualty to Doctors with dozens of roles besides, although, for some, she’ll always be Janice Stubbs, the Corrie femme fatale who broke up Deirdre Barlow’s first marriage. Finally, Pip Torrens. At an awards lunch, I elbowed Oscar winners out of the way to get a selfie with the man who stole the first two series of The Crown, but could still walk into his local Sainsbury’s without causing a ripple. It’s a quality shared by all those on this list. Unlike the superstars who stand apart, bathed but also bordered in a spotlight of scrutiny, these actors are our representatives on screen. One well-known TV actor reports fellow supermarket-shoppers regularly greeting her, thinking she must be a neighbour or a school mum. Who would you rather be? We all know the tragic tales of what havoc fame can cause; equally, a reported 90 per cent of UK actors are out of work at any given time. What a sweet spot then, to be constantly employed, having people smile at you in shops but without someone bumping into you on the Tube and shouting, “I can’t believe it’s Ross Kemp.” They can stay under the radar – that is, they could until I wrote this piece, my hymn to unsung heroes of the small screen, aka TV’s hopefully happy Hermans. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
A sprinkling of celebrity stardust makes any programme worth watching — or does it?
Add Celebrity Sabotage to your watchlist Two quick stories: once, in a London hotel, a film publicist came to find me. Bursting with the pride of a tigress with a newborn cub, she shouted down the corridor: “I’ve got you four minutes with Orlando!” The other took place in a Soho café, when two TV agents pressed me to consider championing their beloved clients’ move from magic to cookery. I nearly choked on my macaroon. This was proper “youth hostelling with Chris Eubank” territory, as proffered by Alan Partridge. It turned out, in the world of televisual evolution, monkey tennis is very real. I mention these two incidents to shed some light on twin beliefs that threaten to consume our entire entertainment ecosystem: the first, that any time spent in the company of a famous face, on screen or off, is superior to that spent with what Liz Hurley helpfully calls “civilians”; the second, that celebrities will do anything, from boiling an egg to being taken hostage, if it means staying under the warm spotlight of another TV commission. The result? As pointed out in Ms Shearer’s recent letter to RT’s Feedback (thank you!), a schedule that includes Jules and Greg’s Wild Swim, Bear Grylls – Wild Reckoning, Dickinson’s Real Deal, Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares, Hippo Watch with Steve Backshall… all of them on TV on a single random Friday. This week sees the arrival of Celebrity Sabotage, in which a gaggle of familiar faces set out to hoodwink unsuspecting members of the public who think they are taking part in brand-new ITV shows. How did we get here? In 1997, the BBC One series Driving School simply followed learner drivers around Bristol and South Wales. What they hadn’t planned for was one Maureen Rees. By the time the cleaner from Cardiff had passed her test at the seventh attempt, 12 million people had tuned in. An appearance on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno and the release of her version of Madness’s Driving in My Car followed. An unlikely sensation had become a star. Two decades later, Paul Whitehouse invited his real-life pal Bob Mortimer to go fishing. So serene was their day out, Whitehouse invited the cameras to watch “two old blokes doing very little”. Eight series later, Mortimer and Whitehouse: Gone Fishing enjoys the highest score of any show on the BBC’s audience appreciation index. Pretty much every factual entertainment show in today’s schedule is an attempt to emulate the success of one of these two models, either a) normal people becoming celebrities, or b) celebrities doing the most normal of things. Clive Myrie revealed that the BBC basically asked him, “What would you like to do?” Sensibly, he opted for a drive through Tuscany and a lesson in making pasta. Entertaining enough, but it does seem to be a case of tail wagging dog, person before idea, Fiat 500 before horse. What’s the problem? Diminishing returns in a culture built on the belief that nothing’s worth watching without a sprinkling of celebrity stardust – because I’m not sure TV bosses have thought it through. They can fish in a familiar pool, leading to cries of “Not her again!”, or they can delve into the industrial pipeline of “talent” – Strictly dancers, Love Island alumni – in the hope that one of these becomes the new Bob Monkhouse, or at least a This Morning presenter. Not all celebs are born the same, but you would never know it from the schedules. Did I really see Michael Ball presenting The One Show the day after he guested on it? Maybe it was a dream. News just in: a new series coming soon to 5, Sam and Ade Go Birding. Samuel West and Adrian Edmondson, two familiar, popular people, doing a thing. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll go in with an open mind – maybe for a full four minutes.
After a stroke in 2021, Classic FM’s Zeb Soanes has got his dream job — playing 33 roles in a show about Alec Guinness
Relaxing Evenings with Zeb Soanes is on Sunday-Thursday at 7pm on Classic FM. Add it to your collection On the first night of the revival of Mark Burgess’s play Two Halves of Guinness, Zeb Soanes sat backstage in his dressing room, preparing to spend the next two hours telling the life story of one of the 20th-century’s great theatrical knights, Sir Alec Guinness. Surrounded by good luck messages from friends and family, Soanes made sure to read one small card in particular: a rare reply to a fan, more than 30 years old, from the man himself. Soanes has one of the country’s most distinctive and beloved radio voices. For 25 years a BBC TV continuity announcer turned Radio 4 newsreader, with forays into The News Quiz, the Shipping Forecast and presenting the Proms on television, he now has the primetime evening slot presenting on Classic FM. But as a trained actor who gave up a job in repertory theatre for the lure of the BBC – “broadcasting was a diversion that somehow lasted for half my life” – Soanes grew up on a diet of classic British films, including all the Ealing comedies, and quickly marked Guinness as his favourite: “Other actors like Olivier used to project their personality outward, while I always felt that Guinness was quieter, inviting us in.” Aged 17, Soanes was even moved to write a letter to his idol, being careful to avoid any mention of Star Wars, which had famously become something of an (albeit lucrative) albatross for the versatile star. A week later, an envelope arrived at Soanes’s home in Suffolk, with a message short but sweet and eternally inspiring – “Good luck with your career”. Now here we are, with Soanes in the title role of Two Halves of Guinness, a witty, intimate one-man exploration of Guinness’s life, sharing his reflections on a dazzling career on stage and screen and the luminaries he encountered along the way. While Guinness famously opted to play all eight members of the D’Ascoyne family in 1949 caper Kind Hearts and Coronets, on stage Soanes delivers 33 characters in total – from Sir John Gielgud to Peter O’Toole and even Dame Edith Evans. His power of mimicry was the bane of his colleagues: at the BBC, Soanes delighted in buzzing through to producers in the voices of colleagues Peter Donaldson and Brian Perkins. He’s had plenty of time to warm up. Soanes first went to see a production of Two Halves 15 years ago, when he realised he was too young for the part. This despite having a voice much older than his years: “Whenever guests visit the studio, they always seem surprised I don’t have a white beard and pipe.” Much later, two things happened. In 2021, aged 44, he had a stroke in his London home. In the 10 minutes he sat waiting for an ambulance, Soanes felt “both an immense wave of gratitude for everything in my life, but also a sense of things left undone”, and one of them was this play. Secondly, he realised that 2025 would mark the 25th anniversary of Guinness’s death, and that he’d come of age himself to take on the role. In 2022, he left the BBC to helm his own show at Classic FM. He says now: “Both are about storytelling, but my BBC job required following a script. It’s lovely being able to express myself fully, and to do other things besides.” Such things have included taking up the role of Chancellor for the University of Suffolk, and campaigning for a statue of Benjamin Britten to be erected in Lowestoft, the composer’s childhood home. Does Soanes ever worry, like his idol, of the work drying up? He laughs. “I have what we’d call a portfolio career, and I love the variety of it all. This play has been a proper labour of love, and I never stop appreciating the fact I’m out there on stage, telling the story I’ve always wanted to tell.”
So, what should we expect from Line of Duty season 7 now? I have some questions
AC-12 are back in business – but after that finale, what twists can Jed Mercurio possibly pull off next?
Anticipation around the forthcoming seventh season of Line of Duty received another jolt this week with the identity of new cast members joining resident trio Ted Hastings, Steve Arnott and Kate Fleming. The BBC has announced that the new run will see the now legendary AC-12 internal anti-corruption police unit disbanded and rebranded the Inspectorate of Police Standards. Amidst the change, Arnott (Martin Compston), Fleming (Vicky McClure) and Hastings (Adrian Dunbar) are assigned a fresh, unprecedentedly sensitive case. Tom Weston-Jones (Warrior, Sanditon) plays Detective Inspector Dominic Gough, a heralded officer who stands accused of abusing his position to act as a sexual predator. The biggest new name on the bill is Robert Carlyle, who will appear as one of Gough’s reports, Detective Constable Shaun Massie, a Specialist Rifle Officer (SRO) and veteran marksman, operating with Tactical Operations Unit 7 (TO-7) to take down Organised Crime Groups. There are also some returning characters, including Mark Bonnar and Owen Teale as the previously shamed police officers Mike Dryden and Philip Osborne – their reappearance hints at the opening of a cold case. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/3/2026/03/559336-41cd908.jpg" width="2501" height="1667" alt="Martin Compston, Robert Carlyle, Vicky McClure and Adrian Dunbar for Line of Duty. They have their arms round each other, are stood in front of a black curtain and are smiling at the camera." title="Martin Compston, Robert Carlyle, Vicky McClure and Adrian Dunbar for Line of Duty" /> But will Jed Mercurio be able to juggle keeping the storyline fresh while satisfying those fans left unimpressed by the season 6 finale unveiling of ‘H’? No TV writer has been able to keep us on the edge of our seats in the way Mercurio managed through six seasons of a show that began life as a word-of-mouth sizzler on BBC Two, made household names of its leading trio and a selling point of Mercurio’s readiness to despatch ruthlessly other, bigger guest stars. It’s a rare universe where being Stephen Graham or Daniel Mays isn’t enough to keep you in the credits. Keeley Hawes’s career was transformed with her glow-down as Lindsay Denton, and we all became as fluent in Dunbar’s Irish lyricism – “now we’re sucking diesel” – as in deliberately dense police jargon – “for the tape, absence of evidence is not evidence of absence”. Read more: Line of Duty season 7 tipped to reopen H mystery after controversial twist reveal Line of Duty's Martin Compston hints season 7 will answer unresolved questions Line of Duty finally crashed out in 2021, with the identity of arch-villain ‘H’ revealed in a finale that saw one of those national grid-measured moments of shared TV experience, like the old days. But was it a whimper or a bang? Many viewers groaned that ‘H’ turned out not to be some Bond super-nemesis operating from his lair, nor even Hastings himself, even if the nation couldn’t have coped with that on top of lockdown. Instead, the ultimate antagonist turned out to be ruthless dullard DSU Ian Buckells – the totem of Mercurio’s message that ineptitude allows corruption to triumph while evil sleeps. I found myself in a minority of one in being satisfied with this nuanced pay-off, while everyone else declared themselves let down, and demanded a recount. Add Radio Times as a Preferred Source on Google Keep up to date on what’s worth watching with your favourite entertainment news from Radio Times – see more of our exclusive news and interviews featured prominently in Top Stories when using Google. Six years later, and the people have had their way. Contrary to all writers’ rules of leaving them wanting more, Mercurio has been persuaded to break the glass for some emergency inspiration and give his audience what it demands. I have questions. For a start, exactly how are they going to deal with the previous resolution of H’s uncovering? Will Steve Arnott wake up and find the whole of series 6 was a Bobby-Ewing showery moment? Or is there a tiny little Easter egg of an idea that Jed had buried away in series 4 or 5 for just such moments? Even if he has, having previously stuck to his principles in opting for a subtle, provocative and semi-realistic denouement instead of a High Noon shoot-out, how will he ride those two horses this time around to once again satisfy his vision while giving us braying masses what we want? The only thing we know for sure is that, as he’s done so masterfully in the past, Mercurio will keep us guessing to the end. View Green Video on the source website Line of Duty seasons 1-6 are available to stream on BBC iPlayer. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Is nothing worth watching without a sprinkling of celebrity stardust?
Not all celebs are born the same, but you would never know it from the schedules.
Two quick stories: once, in a London hotel, a film publicist came to find me. Bursting with the pride of a tigress with a newborn cub, she shouted down the corridor: "I've got you four minutes with Orlando!" The other took place in a Soho café, when two TV agents pressed me to consider championing their beloved clients' move from magic to cookery. I nearly choked on my macaroon. This was proper "youth hostelling with Chris Eubank" territory, as proffered by Alan Partridge. It turned out, in the world of televisual evolution, monkey tennis is very real. I mention these two incidents to shed some light on twin beliefs that threaten to consume our entire entertainment ecosystem: the first, that any time spent in the company of a famous face, on screen or off, is superior to that spent with what Liz Hurley helpfully calls "civilians"; the second, that celebrities will do anything, from boiling an egg to being taken hostage, if it means staying under the warm spotlight of another TV commission. The result? As pointed out in Ms Shearer's recent letter to RT’s Feedback (thank you!), a schedule that includes Jules and Greg’s Wild Swim, Bear Grylls – Wild Reckoning, Dickinson’s Real Deal, Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares, Hippo Watch with Steve Backshall… all of them on TV on a single random Friday. This week sees the arrival of Celebrity Sabotage, in which a gaggle of familiar faces set out to hoodwink unsuspecting members of the public who think they are taking part in brand-new ITV shows. How did we get here? Add Radio Times as a Preferred Source on Google Keep up to date on what’s worth watching with your favourite entertainment news from Radio Times – see more of our exclusive news and interviews featured prominently in Top Stories when using Google. In 1997, the BBC One series Driving School simply followed learner drivers around Bristol and South Wales. What they hadn’t planned for was one Maureen Rees. By the time the cleaner from Cardiff had passed her test at the seventh attempt, 12 million people had tuned in. An appearance on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno and the release of her version of Madness’s Driving in My Car followed. An unlikely sensation had become a star. Two decades later, Paul Whitehouse invited his real-life pal Bob Mortimer to go fishing. So serene was their day out, Whitehouse invited the cameras to watch "two old blokes doing very little". Eight series later, Mortimer and Whitehouse: Gone Fishing enjoys the highest score of any show on the BBC’s audience appreciation index. Pretty much every factual entertainment show in today’s schedule is an attempt to emulate the success of one of these two models, either a) normal people becoming celebrities, or b) celebrities doing the most normal of things. Clive Myrie revealed that the BBC basically asked him, "What would you like to do?" Sensibly, he opted for a drive through Tuscany and a lesson in making pasta. Entertaining enough, but it does seem to be a case of tail wagging dog, person before idea, Fiat 500 before horse. What’s the problem? Diminishing returns in a culture built on the belief that nothing’s worth watching without a sprinkling of celebrity stardust – because I’m not sure TV bosses have thought it through. They can fish in a familiar pool, leading to cries of "Not her again!", or they can delve into the industrial pipeline of "talent" – Strictly dancers, Love Island alumni – in the hope that one of these becomes the new Bob Monkhouse, or at least a This Morning presenter. Not all celebs are born the same, but you would never know it from the schedules. Did I really see Michael Ball presenting The One Show the day after he guested on it? Maybe it was a dream. News just in: a new series coming soon to 5, Sam and Ade Go Birding. Samuel West and Adrian Edmondson, two familiar, popular people, doing a thing. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll go in with an open mind – maybe for a full four minutes. Read more: Jeremy Vine reveals why his game show is a new joy amid the 'death' of the quiz in the modern age The Claudia Winkleman Show review: Was there any doubt we'd be in good hands? The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Celebrity Sabotage begins at 8pm on Saturday 21 March on ITV1 and ITVX. Check out more of our Entertainment coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
This Life at 30: Producer Jane Fallon remembers beloved drama and reveals why she doubts it would happen today
"It felt more like the Wild West in TV back then, a brief period of bravery for commissioners."
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. There was clearly something in the waters of TV drama in early 1996. Hot on the heels of the 30th anniversary of Our Friends in the North two weeks ago, we must wish the same happy birthday to another equally memorable, era-defining show. This Life, a low-budget series about 20-something law graduates sharing a London house, became one of the most talked about titles of its day, and remains a reference point for all things cultural in the mid-90s. Producer Jane Fallon was one of a young team assembled by legendary TV-maker Tony Garnett to bring to screen the script by Amy Jenkins. “We wanted to do something that hadn’t really been seen before,” Fallon remembers. “We wanted to be very naturalistic and avoid clichés, we wanted something a bit anarchic and different. We were fortunate that the budget was small — the BBC pretty much left us alone to get on with it.” Casting of the main roles was key, with producers keen to find new young faces “with no baggage, not somebody we’d all seen on The Bill,” as Fallon puts it. Jason Hughes and Daniela Nardini were the first to be cast, as Warren and Anna. The other parts took longer, with the production team auditioning hundreds of actors before landing on Jack Davenport as Miles, Amita Dhiri (Milly) and Andrew Lincoln (Egg). They then arranged for the chosen five to spend the week together. “We sent them bowling and to the pub so they could get to know each other. By the time we began to shoot, they were all really good friends.” Filming took place in a terraced house in London’s Southwark Bridge Road, close to the the Thames. Fallon recalls a hive of activity, with everyone from accountants to set-builders crammed into the location. “The noise was crazy and we worked 12-hour days so there was a lot of stress, but it also felt we were all sharing in this huge adventure.” One contributor was the then relatively unknown Ricky Gervais, Fallon’s partner, who was credited as music advisor for creating playlists for the characters. He also commissioned and produced the theme tune, an instant earworm by the band The Way Out. Besides the strong characters, the sex and the bad language, what many people remember about This Life is the naturalistic camerawork, which was an innovation created from financial necessity. “We couldn’t afford several cameras,” says Fallon, “so we came up with the idea of putting one camera in the room and just finding whoever was talking. If we’d had more money, we wouldn’t have done it.” Success was by no means guaranteed, with the first reviews harsh and the chance of being renewed for a second series very much in doubt. However, through word of mouth, the show became a sleeper hit, with around four million viewers tuning in for 1997’s series-two finale, hanging on to discover if Miles would end up with Anna, and if Milly would choose a fling with her boss over settling down with the more laid-back Egg. There have been many other ensemble dramas in the 30 years since — This Life itself came back with a one-off reunion episode in 2007 — but Fallon doubts any similar show would appear these days: “It felt more like the Wild West in TV back then, a brief period of bravery for commissioners.” However, having become a successful novelist with 14 bestsellers to her name, she’s clear what the whole experience of This Life taught her. “Just make the thing you want to make, whether that’s a book or a TV show. Don’t allow people to nitpick at what you’re doing because that kills any kind of creativity. Keep focus.” The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Daniela Nardini will introduce the start of a repeat run of This Life on Wednesday 18 March on BBC Four at 10pm, with both seasons 1 and 2 and the +10 year reunion special all available on iPlayer from 6am the same day. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Zeb Soanes reveals why his stroke at age of 44 pushed him to star in play about Alec Guinness
After a stroke in 2021, Classic FM’s Zeb Soanes has got his dream job — playing 33 roles in a show about Sir Alec Guinness.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. On the first night of the revival of Mark Burgess’s play Two Halves of Guinness, Zeb Soanes sat backstage in his dressing room, preparing to spend the next two hours telling the life story of one of the 20th-century’s great theatrical knights, Sir Alec Guinness. Surrounded by good luck messages from friends and family, Soanes made sure to read one small card in particular: a rare reply to a fan, more than 30 years old, from the man himself. Soanes has one of the country’s most distinctive and beloved radio voices. For 25 years a BBC TV continuity announcer turned Radio 4 newsreader, with forays into The News Quiz, the Shipping Forecast and presenting the Proms on television, he now has the primetime evening slot presenting on Classic FM. But as a trained actor who gave up a job in repertory theatre for the lure of the BBC – “broadcasting was a diversion that somehow lasted for half my life” – Soanes grew up on a diet of classic British films, including all the Ealing comedies, and quickly marked Guinness as his favourite: “Other actors like Olivier used to project their personality outward, while I always felt that Guinness was quieter, inviting us in.” Aged 17, Soanes was even moved to write a letter to his idol, being careful to avoid any mention of Star Wars, which had famously become something of an (albeit lucrative) albatross for the versatile star. A week later, an envelope arrived at Soanes’s home in Suffolk, with a message short but sweet and eternally inspiring – “Good luck with your career.” Now here we are, with Soanes in the title role of Two Halves of Guinness, a witty, intimate one-man exploration of Guinness’s life, sharing his reflections on a dazzling career on stage and screen and the luminaries he encountered along the way. While Guinness famously opted to play all eight members of the D’Ascoyne family in 1949 caper Kind Hearts and Coronets, on stage Soanes delivers 33 characters in total – from Sir John Gielgud to Peter O’Toole and even Dame Edith Evans. His power of mimicry was the bane of his colleagues: at the BBC, Soanes delighted in buzzing through to producers in the voices of colleagues Peter Donaldson and Brian Perkins. He’s had plenty of time to warm up. Soanes first went to see a production of Two Halves 15 years ago, when he realised he was too young for the part. This despite having a voice much older than his years: “Whenever guests visit the studio, they always seem surprised I don’t have a white beard and pipe.” Much later, two things happened. In 2021, aged 44, he had a stroke in his London home. In the 10 minutes he sat waiting for an ambulance, Soanes felt “both an immense wave of gratitude for everything in my life, but also a sense of things left undone”, and one of them was this play. Secondly, he realised that 2025 would mark the 25th anniversary of Guinness’s death, and that he’d come of age himself to take on the role. In 2022, he left the BBC to helm his own show at Classic FM. He says now: “Both are about storytelling, but my BBC job required following a script. It’s lovely being able to express myself fully, and to do other things besides.” Such things have included taking up the role of Chancellor for the University of Suffolk, and campaigning for a statue of Benjamin Britten to be erected in Lowestoft, the composer’s childhood home. Does Soanes ever worry, like his idol, of the work drying up? He laughs. “I have what we’d call a portfolio career, and I love the variety of it all. This play has been a proper labour of love, and I never stop appreciating the fact I’m out there on stage, telling the story I’ve always wanted to tell.” Two Halves of Guinness is currently touring the UK – tickets are available now The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Audio coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Brenda Blethyn's A Woman of Substance to Lovejoy – are we in the era of 'microwave TV'?
With a fresh batch of rebooted dramas, programme makers are tapping into our need for nostalgic TV
Add A Woman of Substance to your watchlist If you’ve ever wondered how Vera Stanhope would look with a bouffant in place of a bucket hat, a big-budget wardrobe and even an iron, muse no more: Brenda Blethyn has burst onto our screens, via a Manhattan limousine and complete with sunglasses, padded shoulders and a designer bag, as “the richest woman in the world”, Emma Harte. Yes, it’s a new adaptation of Barbara Taylor Bradford’s novel A Woman of Substance, last seen as a 1985 Channel 4 mini-series, with Emma played by Deborah Kerr (old) and Jenny Seagrove (young). And it’s by no means the only “microwave TV” coming our way in 2026. Never mind real-life coppers looking young, you know you’re getting old when TV detectives come round again: (Inspector) Lynley aired on BBC One in January, while a reimagined Dalziel and Pascoe is due on ITV in the autumn – aside from police, even a new Lovejoy is in the works. It’s a sign of programme-makers’ continuing faith in our affection for familiar brands and, more subliminally, our need for nostalgia in a confusing world. For creatives, the challenge is how to juggle modern sensibilities with keeping older viewers happy while scooping up new ones. A rebooted and rejacketed Bergerac began last year and returns for a second series next month. This new version, starring Damien Molony, offers a case study in mixing the old with the new. Thus, we get a modern variation on George Fenton’s glorious theme (straight from the school of Shoestring, with added accordion), while Jim’s burgundy Triumph Roadster is intact. But there are two gaping holes. There is scant mention of “le Bureau des Étrangers” – it is a far more generic police unit where Jim plays maverick – and Charlie Hungerford is a woman. Zoë Wanamaker is on effortless form as Jim’s disapproving mother-in-law, but nobody will ever match Terence Alexander’s original, with his blazer, club tie and cigar, putting pressure on Jim not to go too hard on a mate because he might be an international fraudster, but he’s always stood his round at the golf club bar. I guess a character like that belongs to yesteryear, but I do remember him fondly. An updated version of A Woman of Substance is even more ambitious. The original three-parter remains Channel 4’s most watched drama ever and, 40 years after it aired, many scenes remain etched on my brain. Yorkshire kitchen maid Emma Harte, cast out and pregnant by her master Edwin Fairley, becomes a retail-empire titan bent on revenge. I laughed out loud when the exterior of Harrods appeared, its famous gold-on-green livery tweaked to read “Harte’s”. Whenever I hear anyone say “tear it down”, I hear Jenny Seagrove telling Liam Neeson – as loyal friend Blackie – how she plans to buy Fairley Hall only to dismantle it, “brick by brick by brick”. Like Bergerac, the new version has some alterations – Blackie is now Mac – and also anomalies. Global retail-market mogul may have been the height of aspiration when Taylor Bradford created her heroine, but Emma would surely be something far less fun these days, like a tech titan. The Dynasty vibe of 1970s Manhattan is out of kilter with today’s straitened times, and consequently far more jarring than the scenes set in 1910s Yorkshire. But the series remains hypnotic for the same reasons it worked all those years ago. It is epic, sweeping, unironic TV, and it’s always thrilling to see the oppressed vanquish their tyrants to become free. I’m just hoping that 2026’s Emma gets to chat with a man about some bricks.
Janice Hadlow’s retelling of Pride and Prejudice turns the spotlight on Mary, the overlooked Bennet sister
Add The Other Bennet Sister to your watchlist It feels as though time has stood still in this bucolic spot a few miles west of Cardiff, and it’s not just because of the country lanes, green fields and trees full of chirping birds, but because all around me there is bustling activity that would appear to belong to yesteryear. Young ladies in crepe bonnets stand by as horsedrawn carriages wait outside a beautiful Georgian mansion, and the Bennet parents line up to wave off their newly married daughters one by one – all except Mary who, as readers of Pride and Prejudice will know, always seemed a lot happier with her books than the birds or bees and, as such, is the sister left alone at home – at least for now. It is Mary’s story that takes centre stage in the adaptation of Janice Hadlow’s 2020 novel The Other Bennet Sister. Hadlow was previously a television executive, which included the role of BBC Two controller from 2008 to 2014 but, despite her experience at the other end of the TV production chain, she was very happy not to be charged with adapting her novel for the screen. “It’s a very different type of storytelling,” she says. “It’s good to have some distance, I think.” Instead, screenwriter Sarah Quintrell’s clever script brings us familiar events from Austen’s original story – Jane’s engagement to Bingley, Lizzie’s initial problems with reluctant suitor Darcy – from a new perspective, and also makes us root for Mary (played by Ella Bruccoleri) as she strives to duck the zero-sum choice of what her friend Charlotte Lucas calls “marriage or misery” and chart her own course. “Because Lizzie and Darcy are so dazzling throughout the book, you don’t really see some of the secondary characters clearly the first few times you read it,” says Hadlow some months later over a video call. “Mary is actually quite a minor character, but very striking – this awkward, pompous young woman who always says the wrong thing. But Austen explains that, as the only plain sister in a family of beauty, sheused her learning, her rather dusty morality, to distinguish herself. We’re offered a psychological explanation of somebody who is often played for laughs.” Hadlow references the famous scene from Pride and Prejudice where Mary sings, proudly but badly, at the piano until Mr Bennet saves her blushes and everyone else’s ears by telling her, “You have delighted us long enough.” “I just felt immense pity for her,” says the author, “and I began wondering if I could give her a happier outcome than that provided in the original book.” All of Austen’s heroines go on a journey of self-knowledge as much as of romance. “Yes, I wondered, what would that look like for her? Plus, I wanted to write a book for all those who’ve ever had an awkward Mary Bennet moment, saying or doing the wrong thing, which accounts for pretty much all of us.” For Hadlow, Austen’s books are also about the relationship between mothers and daughters, and she delights in the portrayal of Mrs Bennet by Ruth Jones. As the family matriarch determined to find good matches for her daughters, the Welsh actor revels in the comedy of it, as well as some plummy tones – “he owns a shop, with a bell” is one of her character’s most withering put-downs – but also finds room for sympathy with the lot of a woman at that time. “The word narcissist is bandied around a lot these days, but I think she pretty much is one, and there was great potential for her to be extreme in all her reactions,” Jones starts. “But she has five daughters, all of whom must marry if they are to survive, so in that respect, she’s a lioness of a mother protecting them. She’s an estate agent with five properties to sell, and one of them will not budge. In her final conversation with Mary, we get a real insight into her thinking. So yes, she’s fun to play, hopefully fun to watch, but I do feel that there’s quite a bit more there.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/3/2026/03/547458-a747e5f-e1773419755693.jpg" width="5094" height="3396" alt="TX DATE:,TX WEEK:,EMBARGOED UNTIL:11-12-2025 19:00:00,PEOPLE:Mr Bennet (RICHARD E GRANT);Mrs Bennet (RUTH JONES),DESCRIPTION:FIRST LOOK IMAGES***EMBARGOED UNTIL 19:00hrs (GMT) 11th DEC 2025***,COPYRIGHT:(c) Bad Wolf,CREDIT LINE:BBC/Bad Wolf" title="547458,TITLE:The Other Bennet Sister" /> The same character was famously played in the BBC’s celebrated 1995 version of Pride and Prejudice by Alison Steadman, Jones’s co-star in Gavin and Stacey, and Jones enjoyed sharing her casting before it was publicly announced. “We were at an awards event, somewhere very noisy, and I whispered to her, ‘I’m going to play Mrs Bennet,’ and she was really excited for me,” remembers Jones. “I told her, ‘I think mine’s going to be very different from yours.’” In Jones’s hands, Mrs Bennet’s manipulation of Mary is more apparent, as is her antipathy towards her husband. She muses: “They clearly had a passionate relationship in the early days, but that has dissipated and given way to unhidden animosity.” Mary was played in that 1995 version by Lucy Briers, and she’s back in action today, playing loyal family servant Mrs Hill, a rare source of support for the isolated Mary. When we sit down on set between scenes, Briers, looking ever so like her father Richard, tells me she feels as though she’s in “some weird time machine, both here and back there. It feels like a beautiful completion of a circle.” When she played Mary on screen 30 years ago, Briers felt protective towards the sister she considers the most like real-life Jane Austen. “I did a lot of research and there was a letter detailing how her family only let Jane play the piano when they weren’t at home. And, like Mary, she wasn’t regarded as a conventional beauty, but she carved her own way.” In The Other Bennet Sister, it is Mrs Hill who encourages Mary to go out into the world. “She’s her maternal influence in the absence of Mrs Bennet, who is more concerned with her other daughters. I love that link.” For Briers, the reason so many readers, and also writers, constantly return to Austen is because, “they are universal love stories, the triumph of the person least likely to succeed. It’s very pleasing, as most of us see ourselves as that person. And of course she has a brilliant, naughty wit.” Jones reveals she initially found Austen’s works “poncey and fluffy nonsense”, before she picked up Pride and Prejudice in her 30s and realised, “Her take on human behaviour is incredible, she was writing in the 18th century, and you could apply all she says to the present day.” Hadlow is still reeling from the experience of seeing her novel come to life on screen. “There’s nothing like watching the first clip of these talented actors saying words I’ve written,” she says, before adding quickly, “There’s Austen in there, too, not just me.” Last year marked the 250th anniversary of Jane Austen’s birth. Why do Hadlow, and so many others, still turn to her work? “Her ability to build psychological pictures and her handling of plot,” is the author’s take. “She makes sure the right people come together at the right time in the knowledge they’re going to rescue one another, and make each other better. I think that’s true for Lizzie and Darcy, and in her other books, Mr Knightley and Emma, or Wentworth and Anne Elliot. No one writes a happy ending like she does.” Now, fingers crossed, Mary Bennet will finally get her own.
The Other Bennet Sister star reveals why she left Call the Midwife and talks beloved Pride & Prejudice character
Ella Bruccoleri opened up about playing Mary Bennet in the new BBC drama.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. It was a very reserved Ella Bruccoleri I first met on set last summer inside a beautiful Georgian mansion in Wales that was standing in for Jane Austen’s Longbourn. She was polite but didn’t seem overly keen to speak between scenes. To be fair, Bruccoleri had a lot on her plate, playing the lead role of the BBC’s latest foray into the world of Austen’s Pride and Prejudice — the “other sister” of the title belonging to Mary, the Bennet girl arguably most overlooked. Eight months later, Bruccoleri laughs loudly at the memory. “That was an early day in the schedule. I was on a hamster wheel, acting in every scene, trying to prep for the next day, knowing I had to go home and sleep. I was quite insular, trying to inhabit something.” Bruccoleri tells me she’s a rare young woman without a lifelong love for Austen’s most popular work — “I’m from Yorkshire, it’s all about the Brontës for me,” she explains. But when she did turn to the book, it was to Mary she felt drawn: “I like to think I’m a bit more confident, but then she is younger than me. I like her industriousness, which is similar to how I approach things, trying to be good at something through study rather than instinct. For Mary, it’s about practising piano every day, for me it’s making hundreds of notes about a character. That’s my comfort zone.” Mary’s story (in Hadlow’s telling) is one of breaking out of the shadows of her sparky siblings, moving to London and finding her own way, and Bruccoleri had a similar experience in her college years with a move away from Scarborough, where she grew up. “I went to Paris with about £100 in my pocket and suddenly I was living in this world of bohemia. It was daunting, but I felt really excited and alive.” She reflects on such parallels with her screen counterpart: “I think Mary has spent her childhood wishing she was Lizzie Bennet and it’s only when she breaks away that she realises she doesn’t have to be.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/3/2026/03/554975-09d55ba.jpg" width="4281" height="2854" alt="Ella Bruccoleri as Mary Bennet, Ruth Jones as Mrs Bennet, Richard E Grant as Mr Bennet, Poppy Gilbert as Lizzie Bennet, Molly Wright as Kitty Bennet, Grace Hogg-Robinson as Lydia Bennet and Maddie Close as Jane Bennet in The Other Bennet Sister. The women are all wearing dresses and Mr Bennet is wearing a suit, and they are stood outside on some steps. Mary is stood in the foreground, while the others are stood in the background, looking at her." title="554975,TITLE:The Other Bennet Sister" /> The child of non-thespy parents — her father works in IT and her mother was a paediatric nurse — Bruccoleri nevertheless was fixed from the age of five on becoming an actor. “My mum told me not to have a Plan B, which is the opposite of most parents, but she thought I’d never do it otherwise.” Her certainty was tested over the six years Bruccoleri tried to get into drama school. While waitressing in London, she finally got in to the Oxford School of Drama on her seventh attempt and hasn’t really stopped working since. Fans of Call the Midwife will remember her as Sister Frances, which was her first big TV role. “When I look back at my early episodes, I’m thinking, ‘Oh, that’s not good,’” she laughs. “I learnt screen acting on the job, and it was invaluable.” Why did she leave? “It felt crazy quitting a great job but I’d started getting different offers, and I realised I love the variety of different things.” View Green Video on the source website When the role of Mary Bennet came up, Bruccoleri knew it was a role she wanted. “I was reading my script on the Tube, and a girl said to me, ‘I auditioned for that months ago. They’ve seen everyone.’ I was really emotional about it. I was worried that if I didn’t get it, I would really struggle.” Having watched the first few episodes, I can’t imagine anyone surpassing her in conveying Mary as sweet and awkward in her gradual blossoming, even if Bruccoleri admits she had to pinch herself a few times working alongside stars such as Indira Varma and Ruth Jones. “Indira is a magical figure,” she muses, “while Ruth is the master of comic timing.” She pauses. “I was humbled by how much everyone cared about the project. It could have made me spin out, but I had to put all of that out of my head. I told myself, ‘I’m here to play Mary and that’s what I’m going to do.’” The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. The Other Bennet Sister premieres on BBC One and iPlayer on Sunday 15 March 2026. Add The Other Bennet Sister to your watchlist on the <a id="OWA8b702c45-bee9-94e4-f018-57518e78041b" title="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" href="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-outlook-id="449c28d9-909e-4aab-b6b8-153454f55d5e" data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="0">Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Brenda Blethyn's A Woman of Substance to Lovejoy – are we in the era of "microwave TV"?
As Brenda Blethyn swaps Vera’s bucket hat for billionaire glamour, 2026 looks set to be the year of the reboot.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. If you’ve ever wondered how Vera Stanhope would look with a bouffant in place of a bucket hat, a big-budget wardrobe and even an iron, muse no more: Brenda Blethyn has burst onto our screens, via a Manhattan limousine and complete with sunglasses, padded shoulders and a designer bag, as "the richest woman in the world", Emma Harte. Yes, it’s a new adaptation of Barbara Taylor Bradford’s novel A Woman of Substance, last seen as a 1985 Channel 4 mini-series, with Emma played by Deborah Kerr (old) and Jenny Seagrove (young). And it’s by no means the only "microwave TV coming our way in 2026. Never mind real-life coppers looking young, you know you’re getting old when TV detectives come round again: (Inspector) Lynley aired on BBC One in January, while a reimagined Dalziel and Pascoe is due on ITV in the autumn – aside from police, even a new Lovejoy is in the works. It’s a sign of programme-makers' continuing faith in our affection for familiar brands and, more subliminally, our need for nostalgia in a confusing world. For creatives, the challenge is how to juggle modern sensibilities with keeping older viewers happy while scooping up new ones. A rebooted and rejacketed Bergerac began last year and returns for a second season next month. This new version, starring Damien Molony, offers a case study in mixing the old with the new. Thus, we get a modern variation on George Fenton’s glorious theme (straight from the school of Shoestring, with added accordion), while Jim’s burgundy Triumph Roadster is intact. But there are two gaping holes. There is scant mention of "le Bureau des Étrangers" – it is a far more generic police unit where Jim plays maverick – and Charlie Hungerford is a woman. Zoë Wanamaker is on effortless form as Jim’s disapproving mother-in-law, but nobody will ever match Terence Alexander’s original, with his blazer, club tie and cigar, putting pressure on Jim not to go too hard on a mate because he might be an international fraudster, but he’s always stood his round at the golf club bar. I guess a character like that belongs to yesteryear, but I do remember him fondly. View Green Video on the source website An updated version of A Woman of Substance is even more ambitious. The original three-parter remains Channel 4’s most watched drama ever and, 40 years after it aired, many scenes remain etched on my brain. Yorkshire kitchen maid Emma Harte, cast out and pregnant by her master Edwin Fairley, becomes a retail-empire titan bent on revenge. I laughed out loud when the exterior of Harrods appeared, its famous gold-on-green livery tweaked to read 'Harte’s'. Whenever I hear anyone say "tear it down", I hear Jenny Seagrove telling Liam Neeson – as loyal friend Blackie – how she plans to buy Fairley Hall only to dismantle it, "brick by brick by brick". Like Bergerac, the new version has some alterations – Blackie is now Mac – and also anomalies. Global retail-market mogul may have been the height of aspiration when Taylor Bradford created her heroine, but Emma would surely be something far less fun these days, like a tech titan. The Dynasty vibe of 1970s Manhattan is out of kilter with today’s straitened times, and consequently far more jarring than the scenes set in 1910s Yorkshire. But the series remains hypnotic for the same reasons it worked all those years ago. It is epic, sweeping, unironic TV, and it’s always thrilling to see the oppressed vanquish their tyrants to become free. I’m just hoping that 2026’s Emma gets to chat with a man about some bricks. A Woman of Substance will premiere on Wednesday 11 and Thursday 12 March at 9pm on Channel 4. Add A Woman of Substance to your watchlist on the <a id="OWA8b702c45-bee9-94e4-f018-57518e78041b" title="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" href="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-outlook-id="449c28d9-909e-4aab-b6b8-153454f55d5e" data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="0">Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Ruth Jones reveals what she told Gavin & Stacey icon Alison Steadman about the beloved Jane Austen role they now share
Janice Hadlow’s retelling of Pride and Prejudice turns the spotlight on Mary, the overlooked Bennet sister.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. It feels as though time has stood still in this bucolic spot a few miles west of Cardiff, and it’s not just because of the country lanes, green fields and trees full of chirping birds, but because all around me there is bustling activity that would appear to belong to yesteryear. Young ladies in crepe bonnets stand by as horsedrawn carriages wait outside a beautiful Georgian mansion, and the Bennet parents line up to wave off their newly married daughters one by one – all except Mary who, as readers of Pride and Prejudice will know, always seemed a lot happier with her books than the birds or bees and, as such, is the sister left alone at home – at least for now. It is Mary’s story that takes centre stage in the adaptation of Janice Hadlow’s 2020 novel The Other Bennet Sister. Hadlow was previously a television executive, which included the role of BBC Two controller from 2008 to 2014 but, despite her experience at the other end of the TV production chain, she was very happy not to be charged with adapting her novel for the screen. View oEmbed on the source website “It’s a very different type of storytelling,” she says. “It’s good to have some distance, I think.” Instead, screenwriter Sarah Quintrell’s clever script brings us familiar events from Austen’s original story – Jane’s engagement to Bingley, Lizzie’s initial problems with reluctant suitor Darcy – from a new perspective, and also makes us root for Mary (played by Ella Bruccoleri) as she strives to duck the zero-sum choice of what her friend Charlotte Lucas calls “marriage or misery” and chart her own course. “Because Lizzie and Darcy are so dazzling throughout the book, you don’t really see some of the secondary characters clearly the first few times you read it,” says Hadlow some months later over a video call. “Mary is actually quite a minor character, but very striking – this awkward, pompous young woman who always says the wrong thing. But Austen explains that, as the only plain sister in a family of beauty, she used her learning, her rather dusty morality, to distinguish herself. We’re offered a psychological explanation of somebody who is often played for laughs.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/3/2025/12/Other-Bennet-Sister-cast-d967f31.jpg" width="5120" height="3414" alt="Maddie Close as Jane Bennet, Poppy Gilbert as Lizzie Bennet, Ella Bruccoleri as Mary Bennet, Molly Wright as Kitty Bennet and Grace Hogg-Robinson as Lydia Bennet in The Other Bennet Sister all walking down a country path, wearing pastel coloured outfits and smiling." title="547457,TITLE:The Other Bennet Sister" /> Hadlow references the famous scene from Pride and Prejudice where Mary sings, proudly but badly, at the piano until Mr Bennet saves her blushes and everyone else’s ears by telling her, “You have delighted us long enough.” “I just felt immense pity for her,” says the author, “and I began wondering if I could give her a happier outcome than that provided in the original book.” All of Austen’s heroines go on a journey of self-knowledge as much as of romance. “Yes, I wondered, what would that look like for her? Plus, I wanted to write a book for all those who’ve ever had an awkward Mary Bennet moment, saying or doing the wrong thing, which accounts for pretty much all of us.” For Hadlow, Austen’s books are also about the relationship between mothers and daughters, and she delights in the portrayal of Mrs Bennet by Ruth Jones. As the family matriarch determined to find good matches for her daughters, the Welsh actor revels in the comedy of it, as well as some plummy tones – “he owns a shop, with a bell” is one of her character’s most withering put-downs – but also finds room for sympathy with the lot of a woman at that time. “The word narcissist is bandied around a lot these days, but I think she pretty much is one, and there was great potential for her to be extreme in all her reactions,” Jones starts. “But she has five daughters, all of whom must marry if they are to survive, so in that respect, she’s a lioness of a mother protecting them. She’s an estate agent with five properties to sell, and one of them will not budge. In her final conversation with Mary, we get a real insight into her thinking. So yes, she’s fun to play, hopefully fun to watch, but I do feel that there’s quite a bit more there.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/3/2026/03/Pride-and-Prejudice-1U4MbjZVW-2e6b609.jpg" width="1816" height="1800" alt="Alison Steadman (Mrs Bennet), Benjamin Whitrow (Mr Bennet), Julia Sawalha (Lydia), Jennifer Ehle (Elizabeth), Susannah Harker (Jane), Lucy Briers (Mary) and Polly Maberly (Kitty) in the BBC's 1995 version of Pride and Prejudice" title="1995 Pride and Prejudice" /> The same character was famously played in the BBC’s celebrated 1995 version of Pride and Prejudice by Alison Steadman, Jones’s co-star in Gavin and Stacey, and Jones enjoyed sharing her casting before it was publicly announced. “We were at an awards event, somewhere very noisy, and I whispered to her, ‘I’m going to play Mrs Bennet,’ and she was really excited for me,” remembers Jones. “I told her, ‘I think mine’s going to be very different from yours.’” In Jones’s hands, Mrs Bennet’s manipulation of Mary is more apparent, as is her antipathy towards her husband. She muses: “They clearly had a passionate relationship in the early days, but that has dissipated and given way to unhidden animosity.” Mary was played in that 1995 version by Lucy Briers, and she’s back in action today, playing loyal family servant Mrs Hill, a rare source of support for the isolated Mary. When we sit down on set between scenes, Briers, looking ever so like her father Richard, tells me she feels as though she’s in “some weird time machine, both here and back there. It feels like a beautiful completion of a circle.” When she played Mary on screen 30 years ago, Briers felt protective towards the sister she considers the most like real-life Jane Austen. “I did a lot of research and there was a letter detailing how her family only let Jane play the piano when they weren’t at home. And, like Mary, she wasn’t regarded as a conventional beauty, but she carved her own way.” In The Other Bennet Sister, it is Mrs Hill who encourages Mary to go out into the world. “She’s her maternal influence in the absence of Mrs Bennet, who is more concerned with her other daughters. I love that link.” For Briers, the reason so many readers, and also writers, constantly return to Austen is because, “they are universal love stories, the triumph of the person least likely to succeed. It’s very pleasing, as most of us see ourselves as that person. And of course she has a brilliant, naughty wit.” Jones reveals she initially found Austen’s works “poncey and fluffy nonsense”, before she picked up Pride and Prejudice in her 30s and realised, “Her take on human behaviour is incredible, she was writing in the 18th century, and you could apply all she says to the present day.” Hadlow is still reeling from the experience of seeing her novel come to life on screen. “There’s nothing like watching the first clip of these talented actors saying words I’ve written,” she says, before adding quickly, “There’s Austen in there, too, not just me.” Last year marked the 250th anniversary of Jane Austen’s birth. Why do Hadlow, and so many others, still turn to her work? “Her ability to build psychological pictures and her handling of plot,” is the author’s take. “She makes sure the right people come together at the right time in the knowledge they’re going to rescue one another, and make each other better. I think that’s true for Lizzie and Darcy, and in her other books, Mr Knightley and Emma, or Wentworth and Anne Elliot. No one writes a happy ending like she does.” Now, fingers crossed, Mary Bennet will finally get her own. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Thirty years on, my illicit Sunday binge of Our Friends in the North lingers like a dream
Add Christopher Eccleston Remembers... Our Friends in the North to your watchlist I hope there’s a statute of limitations regarding VHS-related crime before I embark on this tale. Thirty years ago this week, BBC Two screened the majestic, moving finale of Our Friends in the North. Two months earlier, I’d watched the first episode with my flatmate Jane, and we became so engrossed that we decided we simply couldn’t wait for the rest. Here’s the mea culpa: we both worked in the BBC’s presentation department at the time, so we “borrowed” the precious preview tapes and spent one long, bleary Sunday watching the remaining eight episodes back to back. As the final credits rolled, with the four young leads Gina McKee, Christopher Eccleston, Mark Strong and Daniel Craig now feeling more familiar to us than our cats, we sat back exhaus-ted. “Let’s get a video,” said Jane, which meant a trip to Blockbuster on Shepherd’s Bush Green. We’d been in there for less than a minute when the door opened and in walked two blokes who started chatting to us. They were Mark Strong and Daniel Craig. I thought I was hallucinating and Jane later told me she wasn’t sure it actually happened. I have just rewatched the series, and it remains extraordinarily strong. Through that quartet of future stars and other big names like Peter Vaughan, David Bradley and Malcolm McDowell, writer Peter Flannery weaved the personal with the political to paint a social history of Britain through three decades. With pitch-perfect performances (and some famously imperfect wigs), Mary, Nicky, Tosker and Geordie grow from ambitious idealists of 1964 to disenchanted yet resilient survivors in 95. Producer Charlie Pattinson said of the characters: “You love and respect them, which means they could do anything.” Now, 30 years later, some of the stories behind the show remain as vivid as the drama itself. Flannery initially pitched an adaptation of his own play to Alan Yentob in a pub, offering a story “about British social housing policy”. It took 14 years, and an inspired BBC commissioner in Michael Wearing, to pull it into shape. Eccleston was initially offered the part of chancer Geordie, but realised he didn’t have the necessary swagger: “I couldn’t have competed with Daniel for sexiness and charisma.” Instead, he played political firebrand Nicky and earned a Bafta nomination. Meanwhile, as the last to be cast, future 007 Craig refused to audition after the fourth time, saying he couldn’t do any better. Pattinson remembered thinking, “There’s confidence,” and added, “wonder what happened to him...” There were other bumps in the road. Original director Danny Boyle left after only a few weeks to make Trainspotting, the first and last episodes had to be rewritten due to budget constraints, and the screen rivalry between Nicky and Tosker (mostly ideological but also for Mary’s heart) was mirrored in real life. Eccleston revealed he and Mark Strong clashed on set but were sufficiently professional to make it work: “We were well cast in that respect – that’s as much as I’ll say.” There have been other state-of-the-nation dramas – from Edge of Darkness to State of Play via the glorious GBH – but Our Friends is still widely cited as the bridge between the era of the writer-led single play and the producer/accountant-led tableaux storytelling that followed. How relevant is it today? Housing policy, care homes, homelessness, corruption among the elite… The BBC could do worse than celebrate its birthday with another airing. A quick postscript: years after that surreal Sunday in 1996, I got to chat with Mark Strong and eventually asked whether that Blockbuster encounter could really have happened. “Oh yes,” he said straightaway, “we were in there all the time. Sunday evening was video night.”
As opposites are handcuffed together for a C4 reality show, what will it tell us about modern Britain?
Add Handcuffed: Last Pair Standing to your watchlist I’ve had my share of enforced proximity. I once spent six long nights on the Trans-Siberian Railway, all of them sharing a carriage with a Russian fellow who spoke not a word of English. Every day we spent in our own corners; every evening we passed in quick games of silent, happy chess (I barely took a rook). At least we weren’t handcuffed, unlike the contestants of Channel 4’s latest “competition meets social experiment” Handcuffed: Last Pair Standing, in which nine pairs of strangers are thus shackled day and night for several weeks, to see if they can survive, and even – fetch the hanky – learn to love one another. Involuntary handcuffing with an unlikely friend has long been a go-to on screen. From the moment Richard Gere’s cop and Kim Basinger’s runaway were locked together in the thriller No Mercy, it was only a matter of time before the squabbling gave way to snuggling. More memorably, The Defiant Ones saw prison inmates Tony Curtis and Sidney Poitier on the run, shackled together because “the warden had a sense of humour”, left unpursued because “they’ll probably kill each other before they go five miles”. Confounding any doubters, by the time the credits rolled both had learnt that, as Bill Clinton liked to say, “There is more to unite us than divide us.” It’s an optimistic worldview put to the test by the contestants in Handcuffed, a challenge nobly described by host Jonathan Ross as hopefully “going a small way to healing a fractured Britain” (and a tad less nobly, the bagging of a £100,000 jackpot by the last couple standing). Ross adds that he’s “rooting for couples to go the distance”. Is he, though? As every reality TV exec worth their salt knows, peace, love and kumbaya are all very well, but it’s not what keeps viewers watching, hence the decision by Ross (for which read lesser-paid researchers) to pin together what Love Island producers might call “opposites on paper”. Episode one finds Jo, an ardent feminist intent on promoting the person within, paired with Reuben, an alpha-male fitness freak who spends two hours a day in the gym and insists on calling her “baby”. When she objects, he decides “people are too sensitive”. Could these two be the new Gere and Basinger? Then there’s Tilly, a barmaid with a potty mouth, cuffed to Anthony, a millionaire car collector who believes “manners are all”. If Tilly is lost for words when she sees his Rolls-Royce, she’s moved to tears when she learns about his childhood. As she puts it, “It explains a lot,” which could be the mantra of the whole series. The most fascinating pair are baronet Sir Benjamin and his handcuffee, former prison officer George. We have a hint of what is to come when they arrive at Sir Ben’s 14th-century country pile, and George asks, “Do you have any animals not named after right-wing politicians?” Working-class George confounds expectations with both his historical knowledge and tolerance of Sir Ben, but after a few hours stuck together – spotting some art on the wall by a notorious German (“Adolf was slightly difficult,” admits the baron) and via a buffoons’ dinner party that could have taken place at Wannsee – even George’s patience is tested and, without spoiling it, there’s soon a shriek of “Cutters now!” What do we learn? That whatever politicians say, this country still knows no barrier like a class barrier. And that the prison warder in The Defiant Ones knew a thing or two about human behaviour. Whatever happens to them this time around, for the follow-up series, may I suggest sticking these two for six nights in a Siberian railway carriage. What’s the worst that could happen?
Jonathan Ross’s new show Handcuffed proves the UK still knows no barrier like a class barrier
Involuntary handcuffing with an unlikely friend has long been a go-to on screen.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. I’ve had my share of enforced proximity. I once spent six long nights on the Trans-Siberian Railway, all of them sharing a carriage with a Russian fellow who spoke not a word of English. Every day we spent in our own corners; every evening we passed in quick games of silent, happy chess (I barely took a rook). At least we weren’t handcuffed, unlike the contestants of Channel 4’s latest "competition meets social experiment" Handcuffed: Last Pair Standing, in which nine pairs of strangers are thus shackled day and night for several weeks, to see if they can survive, and even – fetch the hanky – learn to love one another. Involuntary handcuffing with an unlikely friend has long been a go-to on screen. From the moment Richard Gere’s cop and Kim Basinger’s runaway were locked together in the thriller No Mercy, it was only a matter of time before the squabbling gave way to snuggling. More memorably, The Defiant Ones saw prison inmates Tony Curtis and Sidney Poitier on the run, shackled together because “the warden had a sense of humour”, left unpursued because “they’ll probably kill each other before they go five miles”. Confounding any doubters, by the time the credits rolled both had learnt that, as Bill Clinton liked to say, “There is more to unite us than divide us.” It’s an optimistic worldview put to the test by the contestants in Handcuffed, a challenge nobly described by host Jonathan Ross as hopefully “going a small way to healing a fractured Britain” (and a tad less nobly, the bagging of a £100,000 jackpot by the last couple standing). Ross adds that he’s “rooting for couples to go the distance”. Is he, though? As every reality TV exec worth their salt knows, peace, love and kumbaya are all very well, but it’s not what keeps viewers watching, hence the decision by Ross (for which read lesser-paid researchers) to pin together what Love Island producers might call “opposites on paper”. Episode one finds Jo, an ardent feminist intent on promoting the person within, paired with Reuben, an alpha-male fitness freak who spends two hours a day in the gym and insists on calling her “baby”. When she objects, he decides “people are too sensitive”. Could these two be the new Gere and Basinger? Then there’s Tilly, a barmaid with a potty mouth, cuffed to Anthony, a millionaire car collector who believes “manners are all”. If Tilly is lost for words when she sees his Rolls-Royce, she’s moved to tears when she learns about his childhood. As she puts it, “It explains a lot,” which could be the mantra of the whole series. The most fascinating pair are baronet Sir Benjamin and his handcuffed, former prison officer George. We have a hint of what is to come when they arrive at Sir Ben’s 14th-century country pile, and George asks, “Do you have any animals not named after right-wing politicians?” Working-class George confounds expectations with both his historical knowledge and tolerance of Sir Ben, but after a few hours stuck together – spotting some art on the wall by a notorious German (“Adolf was slightly difficult,” admits the baron) and via a buffoons’ dinner party that could have taken place at Wannsee – even George’s patience is tested and, without spoiling it, there’s soon a shriek of “Cutters now!” What do we learn? That whatever politicians say, this country still knows no barrier like a class barrier. And that the prison warder in The Defiant Ones knew a thing or two about human behaviour. Whatever happens to them this time around, for the follow-up series, may I suggest sticking these two for six nights in a Siberian railway carriage. What’s the worst that could happen? The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Handcuffed: Last Pair Standing will air on Monday 2 March at 9pm on Channel 4. Add Handcuffed: Last Pair Standing to your watchlist on the Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Entertainment coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Recent events make ITV’s new drama The Lady disturbing
Add The Lady to your watchlist In her new book about a century of royal fashion – a surprisingly nuanced look at how the House of Windsor has used couture to both express and conceal itself – author Justine Picardie recounts an encounter after a Balmoral picnic when the late Queen “pulled on her rubber gloves and started to clear the table”. If such an example of royal relatability isn’t that novel (we have long known of the same monarch’s fondness for Tupperware, after all), it offers a rare bit of respite in a week peppered by allegations of behind-palace-walls business of a far less wholesome kind. Into this quagmire falls The Lady, ITV’s dramatisation of what we can call a “royal-adjacent” tale. The four-part drama follows the rise and fall of Jane Andrews, the former dresser to the then Duchess of York, Sarah Ferguson. Andrews was convicted in 2001 of the murder of her lover Thomas Cressman and served an 18-year prison sentence. It’s an interesting enough story of a troubled woman desperate to escape her working-class background who answered an ad in a magazine (yes, The Lady) and somehow ended up kissing the hem, possibly literally, of royalty. The performances by the two female leads are excellent: Mia McKenna-Bruce brings depth and complexity to Andrews, while Natalie Dormer’s Duchess conveys Tiggerish self-pity without slipping into full pantomime dame. The elephant casting a huge shadow over proceedings is the nature of recent revelations concerning Ferguson’s behaviour in pursuit of rich, flattering associates. Filming wrapped in the spring of last year, and Natalie Dormer has since refused to promote the drama, donating her fee to child abuse charities. Watching The Lady now, it’s impossible not to shudder as her staff whisper “that’s the American” while the duchess embraces a wealthy new friend (presumably the relatively benign entrepreneur Steve Wyatt). We all know what lies ahead. Who does that leave viewers to care about? Four long hours of narrative invite us to invest in Andrews, to side with her when she arrives at Buckingham Palace and overhears the mockery of snobby colleagues (“Just look at her shoes”), to cheer when she channels Julia Roberts to go shopping and carry hat boxes in time to the strains of Roy Orbison, to boo when she gets the boot from Ferguson’s employ. But this becomes a problem as Pretty Woman swiftly gives way to Fatal Attraction and Andrews is seen demonically trashing an early lover’s home, before losing her job and later her freedom. It says something about being born under an unlucky star when being employed as Ferguson’s stylist is only the second worst thing to happen in your life. While I’m sure there are jokes to be made about crimes against fashion, telling Andrews’s story so fully feels like scrutinising a crime that still haunts her victim’s family. Andrews wasn’t involved at all in the project, while Cressman’s family did not want it made, so why make it in the face of such collective 25-year-long sadness? Because both ITV and Left Bank Pictures, the company that produced The Lady (and before that The Crown), know that royal and royal-adjacent stories will always find an audience. Add that to the bottomless market for true crime on TV, and it’s a ground-skimming fruit I’m surprised took this long to come to screen. The one thing the makers couldn’t legislate for was how ongoing revelations mean that what started out as another fail-safe behind-palace-walls commission has become a poisoned chalice that will require more to wipe clean than a monarch in Marigolds.
Who is new ITV drama The Lady really for? It's certainly not for those impacted by this royal-adjacent story
ITV’s The Lady revisits Jane Andrews’s fall from royal favour to murder conviction – but after recent palace controversies, this glossy true-crime drama lands with an uneasy chill.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. In her new book about a century of royal fashion – a surprisingly nuanced look at how the House of Windsor has used couture to both express and conceal itself – author Justine Picardie recounts an encounter after a Balmoral picnic when the late Queen "pulled on her rubber gloves and started to clear the table". If such an example of royal relatability isn’t that novel (we have long known of the same monarch’s fondness for Tupperware, after all), it offers a rare bit of respite in a week peppered by allegations of behind-palace-walls business of a far less wholesome kind. Into this quagmire falls The Lady, ITV’s dramatisation of what we can call a "royal-adjacent" tale. The four-part drama follows the rise and fall of Jane Andrews, the former dresser to the then Duchess of York, Sarah Ferguson. Andrews was convicted in 2001 of the murder of her lover Thomas Cressman and served an 18-year prison sentence. It’s an interesting enough story of a troubled woman desperate to escape her working-class background who answered an ad in a magazine (yes, The Lady) and somehow ended up kissing the hem, possibly literally, of royalty. The performances by the two female leads are excellent: Mia McKenna-Bruce brings depth and complexity to Andrews, while Natalie Dormer’s Duchess conveys Tiggerish self-pity without slipping into full pantomime dame. The elephant casting a huge shadow over proceedings is the nature of recent revelations concerning Ferguson’s behaviour in pursuit of rich, flattering associates. Filming wrapped in the spring of last year, and Natalie Dormer has since refused to promote the drama, donating her fee to child abuse charities. Watching The Lady now, it’s impossible not to shudder as her staff whisper "that’s the American" while the duchess embraces a wealthy new friend (presumably the relatively benign entrepreneur Steve Wyatt). We all know what lies ahead. Who does that leave viewers to care about? Four long hours of narrative invite us to invest in Andrews, to side with her when she arrives at Buckingham Palace and overhears the mockery of snobby colleagues ("Just look at her shoes"), to cheer when she channels Julia Roberts to go shopping and carry hat boxes in time to the strains of Roy Orbison, to boo when she gets the boot from Ferguson’s employ. But this becomes a problem as Pretty Woman swiftly gives way to Fatal Attraction and Andrews is seen demonically trashing an early lover’s home, before losing her job and later her freedom. It says something about being born under an unlucky star when being employed as Ferguson’s stylist is only the second worst thing to happen in your life. While I’m sure there are jokes to be made about crimes against fashion, telling Andrews’s story so fully feels like scrutinising a crime that still haunts her victim’s family. Andrews wasn’t involved at all in the project, while Cressman’s family did not want it made, so why make it in the face of such collective 25-year-long sadness? Because both ITV and Left Bank Pictures, the company that produced The Lady (and before that The Crown), know that royal and royal-adjacent stories will always find an audience. Add that to the bottomless market for true crime on TV, and it’s a ground-skimming fruit I’m surprised took this long to come to screen. The one thing the makers couldn’t legislate for was how ongoing revelations mean that what started out as another fail-safe behind-palace-walls commission has become a poisoned chalice that will require more to wipe clean than a monarch in Marigolds. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. The Lady will launch on Sunday (22nd February) at 9pm on ITV1 and ITVX. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
A much-hyped film about the US First Lady only skims the surface
Add The Tony Blair Story and Melania to your watchlist An alignment of the stars this week meant I watched, back to back, two films that could fall into the category of “political documentary”. Both profile instantly recognisable, highly polarising figures and both offer glimpses into great rooms of power. But that’s where any similarity ends. First, we need to talk about Melania. Reviews have been harsh of the Amazon-funded portrait of the US First Lady during the 20 days prior to her husband’s second inauguration in 2025, but I thought I’d give it a fair crack. The Melbourne cinema where I watched it was almost packed (it was a 15-seater) with an all-female crowd presumably curious, like me, as to who or what lies under the hat. The opening credits give immediate warning: I’ve not seen one name mentioned so many times since Barbra Streisand’s magnum opus Yentl. Melania Trump is producer, star, all-round muse – making her responsible for the 15 minutes of footage in which she discusses, with fawning stylists, the shoulder pads on her inauguration suit, after which I’m ready to stick the much-discussed hatpin into my own forehead. View Green Video on the source website The rest of the film focuses either on Melania’s stiletto heels – stepping out of a limousine, onto a private jet, through the doors of her gold-plated Trump Tower home – or on the back of her head, so we get to see her golden tresses and the silencing effect she has on bystanders. As a study in iconography, it is fascinating, the only problem being icons don’t stand up to extended scrutiny. Just as a car’s value decreases the minute it drives off the forecourt, Melania’s effect diminishes the longer she stays in the room, and we’re here for 104 minutes. So yes, fascinating, but let’s not call it a documentary. “One-woman Robert Palmer video” would be more accurate. There has been a stream of “access-all-areas” docs lately – the Beckhams, Cristiano Ronaldo, Taylor Swift – and we’re all au fait with the deal: let the cameras in, speak only in praise and awe. But surely, the closer you are to the political epicentre – and there’s no one closer than Melania Trump – the more accountable you must be. And yet, from titles to credits, not one word of explanation, justification or circumspection is solicited or offered. The nearest we get is her husband’s verdict that “she’s very difficult, but there’s no one like her”. There is no hint of how she squares her pursuit of people’s rights, never mind her own immigrant history, with the actions of her spouse, or how she justifies being a feminist purely by virtue of putting all her chips on marital orange. Every sentence she utters tells us less. In contrast, Channel 4’s The Tony Blair Story doesn’t have the man himself as an executive producer, he didn’t have editorial control and he won’t have seen it before it airs. Instead, he’s just one of the many contributors – including wife, children, political friends and foes – shedding light on his story. For one hour devoted to his rise and success revolutionising the Labour Party and leading it to power in three general elections, there are two more devoted to Iraq and his ignominious departure from Downing Street. Critics, from Jeremy Corbyn to Clare Short, queue up to bury Caesar, and Blair answers every question, even those that begin, “Now, be honest with me…” It is sometimes uncomfortable, but necessary viewing, and deserves to be called a documentary. The Melania show is equally uncomfortable, but unnecessary – even if it does tell us exactly what’s under the hat.
Let's not call Melania Trump's film a documentary - Channel 4’s The Tony Blair Story is the real deal
A much-hyped film about the US First Lady only skims the surface.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. An alignment of the stars this week meant I watched, back to back, two films that could fall into the category of "political documentary". Both profile instantly recognisable, highly polarising figures and both offer glimpses into great rooms of power. But that's where any similarity ends. First, we need to talk about Melania. Reviews have been harsh of the Amazon-funded portrait of the US First Lady during the 20 days prior to her husband's second inauguration in 2025, but I thought I'd give it a fair crack. The Melbourne cinema where I watched it was almost packed (it was a 15-seater) with an all-female crowd presumably curious, like me, as to who or what lies under the hat. The opening credits give immediate warning: I’ve not seen one name mentioned so many times since Barbra Streisand’s magnum opus Yentl. Melania Trump is producer, star, all-round muse – making her responsible for the 15 minutes of footage in which she discusses, with fawning stylists, the shoulder pads on her inauguration suit, after which I’m ready to stick the much-discussed hatpin into my own forehead. The rest of the film focuses either on Melania’s stiletto heels – stepping out of a limousine, onto a private jet, through the doors of her gold-plated Trump Tower home – or on the back of her head, so we get to see her golden tresses and the silencing effect she has on bystanders. As a study in iconography, it is fascinating, the only problem being icons don’t stand up to extended scrutiny. Just as a car’s value decreases the minute it drives off the forecourt, Melania’s effect diminishes the longer she stays in the room, and we're here for 104 minutes. So yes, fascinating, but let’s not call it a documentary. "One-woman Robert Palmer video" would be more accurate. View Green Video on the source website There has been a stream of "access-all-areas" docs lately – the Beckhams, Cristiano Ronaldo, Taylor Swift – and we’re all au fait with the deal: let the cameras in, speak only in praise and awe. But surely, the closer you are to the political epicentre – and there’s no one closer than Melania Trump – the more accountable you must be. And yet, from titles to credits, not one word of explanation, justification or circumspection is solicited or offered. The nearest we get is her husband’s verdict that "she’s very difficult, but there’s no one like her". There is no hint of how she squares her pursuit of people's rights, never mind her own immigrant history, with the actions of her spouse, or how she justifies being a feminist purely by virtue of putting all her chips on marital orange. Every sentence she utters tells us less. In contrast, Channel 4’s The Tony Blair Story doesn’t have the man himself as an executive producer, he didn’t have editorial control and he won’t have seen it before it airs. Instead, he’s just one of the many contributors – including wife, children, political friends and foes – shedding light on his story. For one hour devoted to his rise and success revolutionising the Labour Party and leading it to power in three general elections, there are two more devoted to Iraq and his ignominious departure from Downing Street. Critics, from Jeremy Corbyn to Clare Short, queue up to bury Caesar, and Blair answers every question, even those that begin, “Now, be honest with me…” It is sometimes uncomfortable, but necessary viewing, and deserves to be called a documentary. The Melania show is equally uncomfortable, but unnecessary – even if it does tell us exactly what’s under the hat. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Documentaries coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
A new documentary explores our monarch’s “Harmony” philosophy
Add Finding Harmony: a King's Vision to your watchlist One of the few consolations of lockdown was that many of us suddenly rediscovered nature and the great outdoors. Like anything restricted from human grasp, it became a tantalising, precious commodity, seized upon by Instagrammers like a shiny new thing, along with salutes to the sun and mashed avocado on sourdough. However, there’s one public figure who can’t be accused of being a Johnny-come-lately to this particular cause – the King. Over half a century ago, as an earnest young prince, Charles was espousing the value of embracing our environment, of eschewing architectural carbuncles and restoring endangered species to protect biodiversity. His 1970 speech about chemically polluted rivers pre-dated Feargal Sharkey’s efforts by decades. Many of the nature-based alternative remedies he once advocated so “eccentrically” are now accepted complementary therapies. And what did he get for his pains? Headlines in the press about the “loon” prince chatting with his plants, and general head-scratching from everyone else. View Green Video on the source website Today, the now King Charles is beating the same drum to a far more receptive audience. This week finds him the focus of Finding Harmony: a King’s Vision, an Amazon documentary exploring his tireless work, from across the world to his own back garden. The King’s Foundation at Dumfries House in Ayrshire trains hundreds of people in sustainable skills and crafts, and has been credited with transforming one of Scotland’s most struggling regions. Further afield, the foundation has partnered with the government of Guyana in South America to make the country’s capital, Georgetown, “a sustainable garden city”. Meanwhile, since 2009, Waitrose Duchy Organic – which was founded in 1990 as Duchy Originals by the then Prince Charles – has contributed £50 million to the King Charles III Charitable Fund. Though visibly riled in the film by how much there is still to do, the monarch beams with beatific humility when he says, “It would be nice to see if we can get through to people.” By the time the credits roll over acres of rainforest and young people working on crops, you want to shout, “Make this man our leader!” Hold on… Such an image of Charles stands in sharp contrast to that offered by other documentaries. Channel 4’s Dispatches: the King, the Prince and Their Secret Millions (available on Channel 4 streaming) details how the monarch recently pledged to use profits from wind farms owned by the Crown Estate for public good, but made no mention of his Duchy of Lancaster wind farms – the palace’s only comment was to say the latter “operates as a commercial company”. The King, not legally obliged, has volunteered to pay tax on “what is left after public duty expenditure”, but these sums are not disclosed. All of which cuts to the dilemma at the heart of the monarchy. The King’s Foundation has to succeed commercially to ensure his mission continues, yet it means Charles runs into accusations of profiteering. Any other CEO would quickly pocket the spoils, but the monarch’s unique position renders him far more accountable. So the King has plenty of accountants in sharp suits doing the sums, so that he can continue to chat to his plants and champion a better world. For any organisation in 2026, the question is, how easy is it to do things purely for good? The answer: impossible. Charles says in his Amazon doc, “I can only do what I can do, which is not very much.” And that’s the King speaking.
'Imagination is more important than knowledge'
When Shaun Evans takes on a new character, all the hard work goes on in his head
Add Betrayal to your watchlist The last time I interviewed Shaun Evans, we both had a little cry. Me, because I’d been poorly and watching every episode of his peerless Endeavour had sustained me through three bedbound months. Him… well, because he’s a very nice man, and also because he recognised the import of saying goodbye to young Morse after nine series. We signed off saying, “We will speak again.” And now we do, three years later, when the first thing Evans does is enquire after my health. Like I said, he’s a nice man. But we’re here to talk about Betrayal, an espionage thriller/marital drama he has both produced and stars in. Evans’s character John Hughes, an MI5 agent battling on many fronts – fighting “voluntary” redundancy requests, struggling to save his marriage, all the while investigating a national security threat – has the same solitude and righteousness of his Endeavour, but in a very different, contemporary setting. John is often at home with his children and troubled wife Clare, where we see the pressures on an ordinary man of an extraordinary job. “I was interested in playing a man having a midlife crisis,” says Evans. “Plus, there’s always an appetite for the spy genre, so I was curious to see if we could mix together those two. At work, he follows his instincts and it ends in catastrophe. His marriage is on the rocks. The four episodes trace his attempts to solve these seemingly intractable problems.” The two key themes in the show are the world of espionage, and the act of betrayal. For the first, producers recruited former BBC security correspondent- turned-podcaster Gordon Corera as production adviser. For the second? “I always think imagination is more important than knowledge,” says Evans. “It’s interesting to play these characters who are different from you, and find the reason for why they behave as they do. That’s the job, making the imaginative leap.” It’s a full and considered answer that gives nothing away. He’d make a good spy. In Betrayal, as in his previous drama Until I Kill You, the actor eschewed the neutral tones of Endeavour for his native Liverpudlian accent. For the latter, his character, real-life murderer John Sweeney, was also from Liverpool, so that was an obvious choice. For Betrayal, Evans wanted to lean into the class element. “We expect MI5 officers to be from Oxbridge, but it’s no longer the case,” he says. More generally, he’s been using accents as a tool since he graduated from the Guildhall School of Drama over 20 years ago. “When I first started, I wanted to play parts far away from me, to transform into someone else and leave any of my baggage behind.” He pauses. “In a weird way, when you play someone with your own accent, you have to work harder to make the leap.” I imagine accent-switching with such ease must also make it easier to sit in a pub unrecognised? “Yes, exactly. It’s like wearing a big coat.” When we last spoke, Evans – credited with not just matching the quality of the much-loved Morse but perhaps surpassing it – was planning to give himself a proper, extended break, what he called “decompression”, after playing the same character for nine intense years. His plans included taking himself off to Italy to study the language and indulging his great passion for photography. When I ask how much of this came to pass, he swiftly takes a small camera – not a phone! – out of his pocket by way of proof, and adds, “I did go to Italy and attend a language course. I’m not fluent, but I’m pretty good. I return there a lot. I took a lot of photographs, had a small exhibition when I got back, then I got offered another job and threw myself into that.” Now Evans is once again a jobbing actor, albeit one whose name can greenlight primetime projects, life must feel quite different from the days when he was working flat out as title star, producer and sometime director on a massive TV franchise. “There are pros and cons,” he says. “Every element of Endeavour was joyful, and all those people are still in my life.” Even his co-star Roger Allam, famously unsentimental about his projects in interviews? “Ah, he presents like that, but underneath he’s a big softie.” Just like Inspector Thursday, then. “Gently, gradually, your life moves in a new direction,” Evans continues. “Endeavour was a huge education for me, and I felt I graduated. Different jobs mean bringing all my skills to bear. I like the variety.” Even though his Oxford detective is often to be found on ITV3 in the afternoon, Evans rarely watches this or any other screen appearance. “I hope everyone else enjoys it but, for me, I’d rather focus on the day, and then step back and leave it. I love the freedom of being a gun for hire, just going in and doing a good job. What gets my juices flowing? The work itself.” TROUBLE & STRIFE Romola Garai is the other half of the rocky marriage What drew you to Betrayal? I was really intrigued. You have a marital drama interspersed with a high-stakes geopolitical espionage storyline, and they’re given almost the same weight in terms of the story, which felt unusual and fresh to me. Your character Clare is married to a man who can’t tell her what he does all day. How realistic is that? It’s bonkers but accurate. I always thought there’d be an inner ring of confidence where people can share, but the Official Secrets Act covers a lot. It can’t be conducive to a good marriage and theirs is definitely fragmented. Initially, he’s the holder of all this information, but the balance of power soon starts to shift. How do you pick your projects? When I began, it was all career, ambition and opportunity but, at some point, you realise it’s not just about you. If I’m to be away from my children, it has to be worth it. I need to feel like I’m doing interesting work. Storytelling was always a big thing for me. You’ve spoken out previously about the treatment of women in your industry, what changes have you seen? It’s very different. When I was in my teens and 20s, it wouldn’t be uncommon for there to be no women on set at all, apart from the actors. And people didn’t seem to find it odd. I think there has been a systemic top-down attempt to change that. It would be very unusual now to have an all-male creative team. There’s also the growing understanding that women want to see themselves depicted in different ways on screen, with all the various shades of what it means to be a woman. Do people still ask you about the much-missed BBC drama The Hour? It’s weird because that show didn’t do any numbers and it was cancelled after two series, but more than anything else I’ve ever been in, people still come up to me and say, “I loved it, I don’t understand why it ended.” It’s really nice to have been in something that people really love.
Endeavour legend Shaun Evans talks saying goodbye to Morse and why he kept his Liverpudlian accent for ITV's Betrayal
Shaun Evans moves on from Endeavour with a spy thriller – and a fresh sense of freedom.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. The last time I interviewed Shaun Evans, we both had a little cry. Me, because I'd been poorly and watching every episode of his peerless Endeavour had sustained me through three bedbound months. Him… well, because he's a very nice man, and also because he recognised the import of saying goodbye to young Morse after nine series. We signed off saying, "We will speak again." And now we do, three years later, when the first thing Evans does is enquire after my health. Like I said, he's a nice man. But we're here to talk about Betrayal, an espionage thriller/marital drama he has both produced and stars in. Evans's character John Hughes, an MI5 agent battling on many fronts – fighting "voluntary" redundancy requests, struggling to save his marriage, all the while investigating a national security threat – has the same solitude and righteousness of his Endeavour, but in a very different, contemporary setting. John is often at home with his children and troubled wife Clare, where we see the pressures on an ordinary man of an extraordinary job. "I was interested in playing a man having a midlife crisis," says Evans. "Plus, there's always an appetite for the spy genre, so I was curious to see if we could mix together those two. At work, he follows his instincts and it ends in catastrophe. His marriage is on the rocks. The four episodes trace his attempts to solve these seemingly intractable problems." The two key themes in the show are the world of espionage, and the act of betrayal. For the first, producers recruited former BBC security correspondent- turned-podcaster Gordon Corera as production adviser. For the second? "I always think imagination is more important than knowledge," says Evans. "It's interesting to play these characters who are different from you, and find the reason for why they behave as they do. That's the job, making the imaginative leap." It's a full and considered answer that gives nothing away. He'd make a good spy. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/3/2026/01/directed.-He-never-told-me-a-take-was-bad-although-sometimes-he-probably-should-have.-There-were-times-where-I-was-going-way-over-the-top-and-hed-come-up-to-me-and-laugh-saying-okay-weve-got-f2e19fd.jpg" width="3000" height="2000" alt="A man wears a black baseball cap and discreetly looks around a corner." title="ITV-betrayal" /> In Betrayal, as in his previous drama Until I Kill You, the actor eschewed the neutral tones of Endeavour for his native Liverpudlian accent. For the latter, his character, real-life murderer John Sweeney, was also from Liverpool, so that was an obvious choice. For Betrayal, Evans wanted to lean into the class element. "We expect MI5 officers to be from Oxbridge, but it's no longer the case," he says. More generally, he's been using accents as a tool since he graduated from the Guildhall School of Drama over 20 years ago. "When I first started, I wanted to play parts far away from me, to transform into someone else and leave any of my baggage behind." He pauses. "In a weird way, when you play someone with your own accent, you have to work harder to make the leap." I imagine accent-switching with such ease must also make it easier to sit in a pub unrecognised? "Yes, exactly. It's like wearing a big coat." When we last spoke, Evans – credited with not just matching the quality of the much-loved Morse but perhaps surpassing it – was planning to give himself a proper, extended break, what he called "decompression", after playing the same character for nine intense years. His plans included taking himself off to Italy to study the language and indulging his great passion for photography. When I ask how much of this came to pass, he swiftly takes a small camera – not a phone! – out of his pocket by way of proof, and adds, "I did go to Italy and attend a language course. I'm not fluent, but I'm pretty good. I return there a lot. I took a lot of photographs, had a small exhibition when I got back, then I got offered another job and threw myself into that." Now Evans is once again a jobbing actor, albeit one whose name can greenlight primetime projects, life must feel quite different from the days when he was working flat out as title star, producer and sometime director on a massive TV franchise. "There are pros and cons," he says. "Every element of Endeavour was joyful, and all those people are still in my life." Even his co-star Roger Allam, famously unsentimental about his projects in interviews? "Ah, he presents like that, but underneath he's a big softie." Just like Inspector Thursday, then. "Gently, gradually, your life moves in a new direction," Evans continues. "Endeavour was a huge education for me, and I felt I graduated. Different jobs mean bringing all my skills to bear. I like the variety." Even though his Oxford detective is often to be found on ITV3 in the afternoon, Evans rarely watches this or any other screen appearance. "I hope everyone else enjoys it but, for me, I'd rather focus on the day, and then step back and leave it. I love the freedom of being a gun for hire, just going in and doing a good job. What gets my juices flowing? The work itself." The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Betrayal will premiere at 9pm on Sunday 8th February on ITV1 and ITVX in 2026. Add Betrayal to your watchlist on the <a id="OWA8b702c45-bee9-94e4-f018-57518e78041b" title="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" href="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-outlook-id="449c28d9-909e-4aab-b6b8-153454f55d5e" data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="0">Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Ben Affleck and Matt Damon's The Rip proves the upsides and downsides of using real-life Hollywood friends
When real-life bromance meets movie rivalry, the stars’ off-screen friendships become the real story we’re watching.
It may come as a shock to learn that, despite playing the "it’s for work" card, I occasionally lose control of the TV remote, which is how I ended up sitting through The Rip, a heist-based, gun-heavy, F-bomb-flooded thriller that I will describe, without apology, as "probably a film for boys". On the plus side, it starred – nay, was almost rescued by – Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, and when I wasn't watching another shootout through my eyelids, it got me thinking about them and how we feel when film-star friends appear together on-screen. It’s almost 30 years since this golden pair arrived in our lives. The story of how two longtime friends co-wrote Good Will Hunting, defying all their Hollywood doubters and going on to score box-office millions and an Oscar each for best screenplay, has become as rich in mythology and inspiration as the film itself. The film’s most moving moment comes when Affleck's blue-collar loyal friend Chuckie tells Damon’s maths genius Will he's worth more than the life he’s settling for: "You’re my best friend. I call for you every day. The best part is when I knock on your door and I think maybe you won’t be there." Cut to 2026, and The Rip proves that day has not yet come – the Affleck-Damon alliance still tight in life as on screen. View Green Video on the source website A similar challenge is posed by the George Clooney-Brad Pitt pairing in Wolfs. As in The Rip, the film sets two solitary operators in competition and seemingly reluctant comradeship. Except, of course, they’re played by two of the world’s most recognisable men, famous for being handsome, successful and, most pertinently, great friends ever since they dazzled together in Ocean’s Eleven. Studios have long used the same trick to seduce audiences, repeatedly pairing equal and sort-of opposites like Paul Newman and Robert Redford, or channelling the unstoppable-force-meets-unmovable-object charisma of Alain Delon and Jean-Paul Belmondo. We happily sit through hours of fictional rivalry and mistrust, even when we’ve seen the stars sharing a red-carpet joke or hanging out in a boat on Lake Como. Does it matter? Well, it means we can’t fully immerse ourselves in the narrative. If it’s hard enough to believe in any screen character when the face belongs to George "grinning, gravelly" Clooney, it’s almost impossible when he’s squaring up to Brad Pitt. Their widely documented, endlessly photographed real-life friendship means we can never take on-screen conflict between them entirely seriously. Nor are we meant to. We’re not really investing in the stories of The Rip’s competing cops or Wolfs’ mutually suspicious fixers. What we’re immersing ourselves in are these real-life bromantic backstories: Affleck and Damon, the former leaning on the latter through years of rehab; Pitt and Clooney, bonded by decades of practical jokes on film sets. There’s nothing remotely reluctant about any of these partnerships. Anyone who’s worked on a film set will tell you about the long days of downtime between takes – and how much more bearable those hours are when spent playing cards and swapping stories with your besties. The best moment in The Rip's five days running time (OK, just under two hours) is a quiet action-free scene shared by the two stars. "Great work today, man," says Damon. "You, too," says Affleck. Thirty years on, one still calls and the other’s still there. Read more: The Rip ending explained: who was the traitor in the Netflix thriller? Is Netflix crime thriller The Rip based on a true story? The Rip is streaming now on Netflix. Check out more of our Film coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
When pals like Matt Damon and Ben Affleck star together, it’s not just the bullets we’re watching
Add The Rip to your watchlist It may come as a shock to learn that, despite playing the “it’s for work” card, I occasionally lose control of the TV remote, which is how I ended up sitting through The Rip, a heist-based, gun-heavy, F-bomb-flooded thriller that I will describe, without apology, as “probably a film for boys”. On the plus side, it starred – nay, was almost rescued by – Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, and when I wasn’t watching another shootout through my eyelids, it got me thinking about them and how we feel when film-star friends appear together on screen. View Green Video on the source website It’s almost 30 years since this golden pair arrived in our lives. The story of how two longtime friends co-wrote Good Will Hunting, defying all their Hollywood doubters and going on to score box-office millions and an Oscar each for best screenplay, has become as rich in mythology and inspiration as the film itself. The film’s most moving moment comes when Affleck’s blue-collar loyal friend Chuckie tells Damon’s maths genius Will he’s worth more than the life he’s settling for: “You’re my best friend. I call for you every day. The best part is when I knock on your door and I think maybe you won’t be there.” Cut to 2026, and The Rip proves that day has not yet come – the Affleck-Damon alliance still tight in life as on screen. A similar challenge is posed by the George Clooney-Brad Pitt pairing in Wolfs. As in The Rip, the film sets two solitary operators in competition and seemingly reluctant comradeship. Except, of course, they’re played by two of the world’s most recognisable men, famous for being handsome, successful and, most pertinently, great friends ever since they dazzled together in Ocean’s Eleven. Studios have long used the same trick to seduce audiences, repeatedly pairing equal and sort-of opposites like Paul Newman and Robert Redford, or channelling the unstoppable-force-meets-unmovable-object charisma of Alain Delon and Jean-Paul Belmondo. We happily sit through hours of fictional rivalry and mistrust, even when we’ve seen the stars sharing a red-carpet joke or hanging out in a boat on Lake Como. Does it matter? Well, it means we can’t fully immerse ourselves in the narrative. If it’s hard enough to believe in any screen character when the face belongs to George “grinning, gravelly” Clooney, it’s almost impossible when he’s squaring up to Brad Pitt. Their widely documented, endlessly photographed real-life friendship means we can never take on-screen conflict between them entirely seriously. Nor are we meant to. We’re not really investing in the stories of The Rip’s competing cops or Wolfs’ mutually suspicious fixers. What we’re immersing ourselves in are these real-life bromantic backstories: Affleck and Damon, the former leaning on the latter through years of rehab; Pitt and Clooney, bonded by decades of practical jokes on film sets. There’s nothing remotely reluctant about any of these partnerships. Anyone who’s worked on a film set will tell you about the long days of downtime between takes – and how much more bearable those hours are when spent playing cards and swapping stories with your besties. The best moment in The Rip’s five days running time (OK, just under two hours) is a quiet action-free scene shared by the two stars. “Great work today, man,” says Damon. “You, too,” says Affleck. Thirty years on, one still calls and the other’s still there.
The Traitors season 4 final sees two worthy winners – and proves once again why it's unmissable TV
The following contains spoilers for the finale of season four of The Traitors. Add it to your watchlist The ravens have departed the castle, it’s all over and we have a winner. After 12 episodes, 22 contestants and 75 increasingly tense last minutes, Traitors Rachel and Stephen emerged as victors. The final started dramatically enough, with Traitor Rachel saved by chance from banishment. Despite Jack’s tears at James’s exit, this was a blessing for producers, as it paved the way for some serious traitor-on-traitor betrayal, after Stephen and Rachel both decided to ditch all those turret pledges of mutual loyalty. This made for an immensely satisfying final Round Table, as Stephen once again sat without an arrow going near him, and Rachel once again brushed off all comers like a lion swatting off impalas and played Faraaz like a violin. Result: Jade gone. And then there were four, and it was time for Endgame. 15 minutes later and it was all over as, with Faraaz gone, Rachel and Stephen somehow got over their differences and reunited to banish Jack and share the £97,750 pot. – a mere £47,875 each. They’re both worthy winners: Stephen with his ability to make allies and withstand the Library Five and Caged Three accusations, and Rachel with her formidable skill in thinking on her feet and fending off the attacks of fellow Traitor Fiona and forensic Faithful Harriet. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/3/2026/01/traitors-final-1-2151158.jpg" width="4600" height="3067" alt="Claudia Winkleman in a tailored black suit stands confidently between two green leather armchairs in a wood-panelled room, facing a table piled high with gold bars." title="Claudia Winkleman in a tailored black suit stands confidently between two green leather armchairs in a wood-panelled room, facing a table piled high with gold bars." /> But never mind this triumphant pair, the real winners are the makers of this fourth series of The Traitors, who proved that they could come back down to earth from the high flights of last year’s celebrity version and still leave us holding our breath these past four weeks. Trying to explain the show to a rare non-viewer makes it sound desperately inane: a bunch of strangers, in a castle, a handful selected as secret murderers, the rest left to guess who they are. Despite the masterful edits, the Enya wails into the night, Claudia Winkleman’s Alice Cooper-in-a-kilt schtick, it remains an ancient parlour game brought to primetime TV. And yet… Love Island used to get poo-poohed by critics for its cigarette-paper thin premise: two people speak, then two other people speak about what they’ve just spoken about. Pop singer Lee Ryan was sent death threats when he took part in Celebrity Big Brother and divided his affections between two unsuspecting female housemates. Yet somehow The Traitors, built entirely on the very same human instincts – to observe, ingratiate, gossip and betray – has been received by a nightly audience of 8 million-plus as much higher-market must-watch TV. Go figure. The challenge now for those same producers who’ve pulled this off will be how to match this success next time round. It’s probably no bad thing there’s a big gap until the next series, time for us to enjoy contestants’ sweet solidarity on shows like Bake Off and Sewing Bee and bask in how we like to see ourselves, before The Traitors returns to reveal once again who we really are.
A ruthless finale, two triumphant Traitors and another reminder that this gloriously simple parlour game remains required viewing.
The ravens have departed the castle, it’s all over and we have a winner. After 12 episodes, 22 contestants and 75 increasingly tense last minutes, Traitors Rachel and Stephen emerged as victors. The final started dramatically enough, with Traitor Rachel saved by chance from banishment. Despite Jack’s tears at James’s exit, this was a blessing for producers, as it paved the way for some serious traitor-on-traitor betrayal, after Stephen and Rachel both decided to ditch all those turret pledges of mutual loyalty. This made for an immensely satisfying final Round Table, as Stephen once again sat without an arrow going near him, and Rachel once again brushed off all comers like a lion swatting off impalas and played Faraaz like a violin. Result: Jade gone. And then there were four, and it was time for Endgame. 15 minutes later and it was all over as, with Faraaz gone, Rachel and Stephen somehow got over their differences and reunited to banish Jack and share the £97,750 pot. – a mere £47,875 each. They’re both worthy winners: Stephen with his ability to make allies and withstand the Library Five and Caged Three accusations, and Rachel with her formidable skill in thinking on her feet and fending off the attacks of fellow Traitor Fiona and forensic Faithful Harriet. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/3/2026/01/traitors-final-1-2151158.jpg" width="4600" height="3067" alt="Claudia Winkleman in a tailored black suit stands confidently between two green leather armchairs in a wood-panelled room, facing a table piled high with gold bars." title="Claudia Winkleman in a tailored black suit stands confidently between two green leather armchairs in a wood-panelled room, facing a table piled high with gold bars." /> But never mind this triumphant pair, the real winners are the makers of this fourth series of The Traitors, who proved that they could come back down to earth from the high flights of last year’s celebrity version and still leave us holding our breath these past four weeks. Trying to explain the show to a rare non-viewer makes it sound desperately inane: a bunch of strangers, in a castle, a handful selected as secret murderers, the rest left to guess who they are. Despite the masterful edits, the Enya wails into the night, Claudia Winkleman’s Alice Cooper-in-a-kilt schtick, it remains an ancient parlour game brought to primetime TV. And yet… Love Island used to get poo-poohed by critics for its cigarette-paper thin premise: two people speak, then two other people speak about what they’ve just spoken about. Pop singer Lee Ryan was sent death threats when he took part in Celebrity Big Brother and divided his affections between two unsuspecting female housemates. Yet somehow The Traitors, built entirely on the very same human instincts – to observe, ingratiate, gossip and betray – has been received by a nightly audience of 8 million-plus as much higher-market must-watch TV. Go figure. The challenge now for those same producers who’ve pulled this off will be how to match this success next time round. It’s probably no bad thing there’s a big gap until the next series, time for us to enjoy contestants’ sweet solidarity on shows like Bake Off and Sewing Bee and bask in how we like to see ourselves, before The Traitors returns to reveal once again who we really are. View Green Video on the source website Read more: The Traitors season 4 fashion: Where can you buy all the iconic outfits? Add The Traitors to your watchlist on the Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Entertainment coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
There’s a real joy and comfort in watching passionate people do what they love
Add Guy Martin: Proper Jobs and Mission to Space with Francis Bourgeois to your watchlist My friend and I used to be fans of a big documentary festival until about a decade ago. After yet more films about a boy wearing mascara, or a girl holding a Kalashnikov, we walked out after a screening and she said, “It’s all about being. When did people stop doing stuff?” To be fair, documentaries remain a crucial platform for investigative journalism, but when it comes to our TV screens, my friend was right. We aren’t short of what TV commissioners call “factual entertainment”, but it feels like a million variations on a single premise: two celebrities in a car swapping their “stories”, between stops where they buy a house and a surprisingly valuable bit of art. Or, if it’s Channel 4, an intentionally provocative session with some kind of sex practitioner. If an expert is called upon, it’s to answer the questions of yet another celebrity. Where are the people doing stuff? It wasn’t always this way. I grew up watching people like Keith Floyd, Ann Ladbury and Fred Dibnah and their infectious enthusiasms for, respectively, cooking without a recipe (but with a glass of red), cutting sewing patterns and demolishing chimneys. They were all doing it anyway; fame came through their passions, not the other way round. The word “geek” – which just means a deep, tireless interest in a subject, often niche – has been given a bad rap, associated with a bad haircut and passion for planes over personal grooming. Well, give me an unsmoothed expert enthused to share over a slick celebrity paid to learn any day of the week. The good news is that there are green shoots of fresh geek-dom on our screens. With a doffed cap to the storytelling talents of scientist Dr Hannah Fry, the numero uno of nerds is Guy Martin. First spotted by TV producers on his bike in a 2009 TT race, the Grimsby-born presenter brings his love for all things mechanical to TV, from building a boat to breaking the world record for the fastest toboggan. Refreshingly averse to celebrity over substance (he said no to hosting Top Gear), Martin must navigate authenticity with keeping producers happy. His latest series explores “proper jobs” – which I’m guessing means those requiring pre-dawn starts and dirty hands (strangely, I’ve not yet received the call), and it’s something he clearly admires. Nearly two decades after stardom beckoned, he still turns down TV work in favour of mending lorries and driving tractors. There are plenty out there. If you don’t recognise the name Wintergatan, you’re not one of the 276 million who have tuned into YouTube to watch this Swedish band’s frontman Martin Molin play an instrument he built using 2,000 marbles. Subsequently, Molin abandoned the project, calling it unreliable for the planned world tour. Like Martin, this techie is not for turning. On paper, Francis Bourgeois sounds dreadful: “TikTok content producer, brand ambassador, model.” But at heart, he’s a trainspotter, whose enthusiasm for all things locomotive has garnered millions of followers on social media. For a Channel 4 doc, he flirts with the idea of going to space and has a reality check when he prepares to meet a real astronaut: “I have to carry my engineering expertise to this meeting. The power of social media, that can only take one so far.” Well, indeed, but in an age where we no longer learn how to mend a Land Rover, sew a dress or demolish a chimney, it is the modern mastery of such self-promotion that is key to promoting these skills and passions past, and where we’re reminded that there is no happier companionship than a shared niche. When Guy Martin’s host family of dairy farmers throw him a party, the bubbly is popped, the burgers are turned, but where’s Guy? In a corner, showing the farmer’s son what ChatGPT has to say about hydraulic engine fluids. Doing stuff. Enthralled, enthralling.
When did TV documentaries become all about celebrities and 'being' and stop being about people actually doing something?
The good news is that there are green shoots of fresh geek-dom on our screens.
My friend and I used to be fans of a big documentary festival until about a decade ago. After yet more films about a boy wearing mascara, or a girl holding a Kalashnikov, we walked out after a screening and she said, "It’s all about being. When did people stop doing stuff?" To be fair, documentaries remain a crucial platform for investigative journalism, but when it comes to our TV screens, my friend was right. We aren’t short of what TV commissioners call "factual entertainment", but it feels like a million variations on a single premise: two celebrities in a car swapping their "stories", between stops where they buy a house and a surprisingly valuable bit of art. Or, if it's Channel 4, an intentionally provocative session with some kind of sex practitioner. If an expert is called upon, it’s to answer the questions of yet another celebrity. Where are the people doing stuff? It wasn’t always this way. I grew up watching people like Keith Floyd, Ann Ladbury and Fred Dibnah and their infectious enthusiasms for, respectively, cooking without a recipe (but with a glass of red), cutting sewing patterns and demolishing chimneys. They were all doing it anyway; fame came through their passions, not the other way round. The word "geek" – which just means a deep, tireless interest in a subject, often niche – has been given a bad rap, associated with a bad haircut and passion for planes over personal grooming. Well, give me an unsmoothed expert enthused to share over a slick celebrity paid to learn any day of the week. The good news is that there are green shoots of fresh geek-dom on our screens. With a doffed cap to the storytelling talents of scientist Dr Hannah Fry, the numero uno of nerds is Guy Martin. First spotted by TV producers on his bike in a 2009 TT race, the Grimsby-born presenter brings his love for all things mechanical to TV, from building a boat to breaking the world record for the fastest toboggan. Refreshingly averse to celebrity over substance (he said no to hosting Top Gear), Martin must navigate authenticity with keeping producers happy. His latest series explores "proper jobs"– which I’m guessing means those requiring pre-dawn starts and dirty hands (strangely, I’ve not yet received the call), and it’s something he clearly admires. Nearly two decades after stardom beckoned, he still turns down TV work in favour of mending lorries and driving tractors. There are plenty out there. If you don’t recognise the name Wintergatan, you’re not one of the 276 million who have tuned into YouTube to watch this Swedish band’s frontman Martin Molin play an instrument he built using 2,000 marbles. Subsequently, Molin abandoned the project, calling it unreliable for the planned world tour. Like Martin, this techie is not for turning. On paper, Francis Bourgeois sounds dreadful: "TikTok content producer, brand ambassador, model." But at heart, he's a trainspotter, whose enthusiasm for all things locomotive has garnered millions of followers on social media. View oEmbed on the source website For a Channel 4 doc, he flirts with the idea of going to space and has a reality check when he prepares to meet a real astronaut: "I have to carry my engineering expertise to this meeting. The power of social media, that can only take one so far." Well, indeed, but in an age where we no longer learn how to mend a Land Rover, sew a dress or demolish a chimney, it is the modern mastery of such self-promotion that is key to promoting these skills and passions past, and where we’re reminded that there is no happier companionship than a shared niche. When Guy Martin's host family of dairy farmers throw him a party, the bubbly is popped, the burgers are turned, but where’s Guy? In a corner, showing the farmer’s son what ChatGPT has to say about hydraulic engine fluids. Doing stuff. Enthralled, enthralling. Mission to Space with Francis Bourgeois begins on Sunday 25 January at 6:50pm on Channel 4. Check out more of our Documentaries coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.