Margaret
BBC 2
Portillo on Thatcher: The Lady’s Not for Spurning
BBC 2
Billy Connolly: Journey to the Edge of the World
ITV 1
LINDSAY DUCNCAN: one of my favourite actors. Margaret Thatcher: my least favourite British politician (with the exception of Tony Blair). Could they be morphed into a convincing portrayal of the same person? In spite of the pivotal role of the script, no dramatised biography can hope to succeed without suiting the actor to the role. And for me, despite Duncan’s impressive acting, I could never quite believe her as the Iron Lady in Margaret, the BBC 2 dramatisation of her last days in power. Leave aside the fact that Duncan is on record as being staunchly anti-Thatcherite. She is just too subtle and nuanced a performer to capture the weird brand of artificiality which Thatcher cultivated as her public image.
Having never met the former Prime Minister socially, I can’t judge her private persona as scripted by Richard Cottan and directed by James Kent. However, according to some who knew her, at this late stage in her career she had come to resemble an actor who is never “off” – her public and private selves hopelessly entangled. Duncan seemed a little too low-key.
Cottan’s script pinpointed two key moments in the Thatcher story – snapping backwards and forwards between the campaign to bring her in as Tory Party leader and the campaign, 11 years on, to kick her out. Her first group of Tory supporters, the author suggested, saw her only as a means to unseat Edward Heath, after which she would be expendable. The second gang of plotters hoped to “shock her into becoming more manageable”, in order to minimise a Tory wipe-out at the next general election – after which she could be put out to grass. All this plotting and scheming apparently took place in strangely darkened rooms against a sinister musical soundtrack. Shadowy men listened in to one another’s telephone calls. They greeted each other warmly in Westminster corridors, only to mutter: “Wanker”, just as soon as they were out of earshot.
It was all very atmospheric, but I’m not sure how clearly the underlying political need for Thatcher’s removal was exposed in this one-off drama. If I had not already briefed myself by watching Portillo on Thatcher: The Lady’s Not for Spurning, I might have found this fictionalised account quite opaque. Although obviously using his programme as a chance to spring clean his political reputation, Michael Portillo gave an analysis of the downfall of the leaderene which was admirably sharp. I was particularly intrigued by his revelation that Thatcher’s Cabinet members (including Portillo himself) were a lachrymose crew. Richard Cottan’s script was too kind – only showing one of them blubbing when called into Thatcher’s office for a last-ditch loyalty check.
By the end of Margaret, I can’t say I’d gained any new insights into her as a politician or a human being. She was shown musing to her assistant about her loveless childhood – how her parents had really wanted a boy. There were a couple of telling moments regarding her children – her painful resentment of daughter Carol, her adoration of son Mark. But this was stuff we know – or guess – already.
There were cameo performances to savour from the “vegetables” around her – among them John Sessions’ eerie transformation into Geoffrey Howe, Oliver Cotton’s swashbuckling Michael Heseltine and Nigel Le Vaillant’s fruity Ted Heath. But was this drama a case of fiction revealing more than fact? I’m not so sure. There’s been a lot of talk lately about Thatcher’s legacy, but I doubt drama documentaries will play much part in it, never mind our free market recession. When she departs this life, we’ll probably suffer another rewrite of history in the style of Ronald Reagan.
On the subject of adjusted reality, no one should have spent too long watching Billy Connolly: Journey to the Edge of the World. Exposure to this programme may induce feelings of murderous irritation. This is a man so delighted with the state of the world that he reminds me of the gushing youth in The Fast Show who found absolutely everything “brilliant.”
During his travels into the Arctic Circle, Connolly was beside himself with glee. A bleak landscape of barren rocks and dust? “Brilliant – the quiet and emptiness is good for me.” The gurgle of a glacier melting due to global warming? “What a jolly noise. I’m too stupid to be scared.” Inuit throat singing (making a sound like a growling dog)? “Staggering, brilliant and wonderful.”
Far be it from a miserable pessimist like me to rain on Connolly’s parade. I’m glad he’s happy. But I suggest the warmth of his welcome in these chilly lands may have less to do with innate Inuit cheerfulness than the presence of his camera crew. And if I have to watch him laugh insanely in the faces of any more of these poor people, I think I’ll renounce foreign travel for life.
Helen Chappell
