27 November 1997 Edition
Television: Casualties
By Sean O'Donaile
It was great to hear the old chants of ``Maggie, Maggie, Maggie - Out-Out-Out!'' on BBC 2's powerful real-life drama The Scar last Sunday, but the aftermath was somewhat depressing.
Set against the backdrop of the disintegration of a County Durham mining community, May Murton, once an activist in the 1984 Miners' Strike, must swallow her principles as she falls for likeable Roy, the local manager of the nearby open cast mine.
Her reminiscing of the strike shows many parallels with the struggle of the 1980-81 Hunger Strikes. Miners drew strength from the community in a time of terrible suffering as the Hunger Strikers did and her speeches likewise referred to the communal unity and spirit that emanated from this.
The police treated the striking miners in the same manner as the gardai treated the H-Block marchers in Dublin on that infamous August 1981 march. Many of the striking chants were similar, although I didn't hear ``Gerry Fitt is a Brit'' among them. Unlike the risen Republican community which grew out of 1981, the mining communities disintegrated, mirrored in May's ex-husband, who exchanges his radicalism for a bottle of whiskey and misery and a disinterested son, who states, ``there is no fucking future'' and spends his days swigging cider.
May's local drinking club would have fitted in well on the Falls Road and one could imagine her as one of those myriad of strong women who keep republican communities together. Her spunky spirit - ``the working class must always keep a little bitterness in their hearts for Thatcher and her like'' - would have been a match for any RUC man.
Her family problems and menopause are alleviated by the love and support she receives from the likeable capitalist, but it was never going to last, particularly when she meets local suits who label unemployment as `creative conversion'. They draw her fiery wrath, and she describes them as ``smug, uncaring bastards''.
Despite a strong storyline, the conclusion was all a bit North of Englandish predictably depressing, with her son losing his first job and his school going girlfriend pregnant, her daughter turning down her only offer of work to squeeze eggs out of dead chickens for £1.30 an hour, her old hubby burning his house down and her lover losing his job after saying ``Bollocks'' to the suits.
That's what I should have said to the suits who fund Temple Street Childrens' Hospital, where I recently spent the best part of a week. Despite an excellent staff the facilities were a world away from those of ER (RTE 1/Sky). There was no peeling paint or five hour casualty waits on ER, no crumbling wards, or toilets that would have gone down well in 1950's Albania. Also absent were brazen politicians claiming credit for supporting fundraisers for hospitals which are unfunded because of their actions.
Instead we had ``Gorgeous'' George (Clooney), America's latest heart throb who spends his day saving lives and flirting with his latest admirer, to the chargin of his lover. There were plenty of emergencies however. One poor soul drops a crane on his toes, another breaks his spine and a young woman has brain surgery, performed by a staff who think they're on Star Trek - ``...track2...abdominal C 127 with contract - give me central line. blood loss 300 CC... beam me up Scotty...''
Apart from George this episode's central character seemed to be a supervisor who ran the ward with a Thatcherite mentality which would have gone down a bomb with the miners, a sparring couple, who fall out after Mammy decides to have their new born son circumcised. Daddy feels his manhood threatened and seems to feel the pain!
Despite all the shenanigans ER passes the test, moving at 100 miles an hour and finishing in Hill St Blues style with the central characters snuggling up to each other.
It made me realise how glad I was to be out of Temple Street, but if they ever tired to make a programme about that, it would have to be based on a Siberian Alexander Solzhynitzein novel.
There is no doubt that the media have acted like vultures in the most recent abortion furore, camped outside the caravan of the traveller family at the centre of the tragedy. Among the tactics was to offer cash to family member for interviews, a tactic which would not have been used had this family lived in a more affluent area.
The middle aged man who lost the run of himself and verbally attacked John Bowman on RTE's Questions and Answers did have a point - questions are preset for the politicians, who receive them well in advance, and are subsequently permitted to prattle on at length without being challenged, leading to little audience debate. In fact most of the audience seem to be starstruck. Politicians' attitude to abortion appears to be about getting maximum exposure without actually saying anything, mirroring Irish society's refusal to grasp the nettle. As for Q & A ``where have all the Shinners gone?''
Sraith ur teilifise o Aonad na Gaeilge BBC thuaisceart Eireann ata i Sneachta Dearg, irischalr miosuil ina mbionn meascan de scealtai comhaimseartha, agallaimh, ealain, greann agus ceol, a cur i lathair ag Karen Ní Ghallchoir augs Antaine Ni Dhonaile.
Sa chead eagran a chraoladh ar an 18u Samhna bhi amarc siar ar Oireachtas `97 i mBeal Feirste, speachadh taobh thiar donc cheamara ar ``Hollywood Anocht'' de chuid Tna G, agus ceol on ``forever-yougn'' Nick Sadlier agus a chairde i `mBreag'. Maith sibh!
It was great to hear the old chants of ``Maggie, Maggie, Maggie - Out-Out-Out!'' on BBC 2's powerful real-life drama The Scar last Sunday, but the aftermath was somewhat depressing.
Set against the backdrop of the disintegration of a County Durham mining community, May Murton, once an activist in the 1984 Miners' Strike, must swallow her principles as she falls for likeable Roy, the local manager of the nearby open cast mine.
Her reminiscing of the strike shows many parallels with the struggle of the 1980-81 Hunger Strikes. Miners drew strength from the community in a time of terrible suffering as the Hunger Strikers did and her speeches likewise referred to the communal unity and spirit that emanated from this.
The police treated the striking miners in the same manner as the gardai treated the H-Block marchers in Dublin on that infamous August 1981 march. Many of the striking chants were similar, although I didn't hear ``Gerry Fitt is a Brit'' among them. Unlike the risen Republican community which grew out of 1981, the mining communities disintegrated, mirrored in May's ex-husband, who exchanges his radicalism for a bottle of whiskey and misery and a disinterested son, who states, ``there is no fucking future'' and spends his days swigging cider.
May's local drinking club would have fitted in well on the Falls Road and one could imagine her as one of those myriad of strong women who keep republican communities together. Her spunky spirit - ``the working class must always keep a little bitterness in their hearts for Thatcher and her like'' - would have been a match for any RUC man.
Her family problems and menopause are alleviated by the love and support she receives from the likeable capitalist, but it was never going to last, particularly when she meets local suits who label unemployment as `creative conversion'. They draw her fiery wrath, and she describes them as ``smug, uncaring bastards''.
Despite a strong storyline, the conclusion was all a bit North of Englandish predictably depressing, with her son losing his first job and his school going girlfriend pregnant, her daughter turning down her only offer of work to squeeze eggs out of dead chickens for £1.30 an hour, her old hubby burning his house down and her lover losing his job after saying ``Bollocks'' to the suits.
That's what I should have said to the suits who fund Temple Street Childrens' Hospital, where I recently spent the best part of a week. Despite an excellent staff the facilities were a world away from those of ER (RTE 1/Sky). There was no peeling paint or five hour casualty waits on ER, no crumbling wards, or toilets that would have gone down well in 1950's Albania. Also absent were brazen politicians claiming credit for supporting fundraisers for hospitals which are unfunded because of their actions.
Instead we had ``Gorgeous'' George (Clooney), America's latest heart throb who spends his day saving lives and flirting with his latest admirer, to the chargin of his lover. There were plenty of emergencies however. One poor soul drops a crane on his toes, another breaks his spine and a young woman has brain surgery, performed by a staff who think they're on Star Trek - ``...track2...abdominal C 127 with contract - give me central line. blood loss 300 CC... beam me up Scotty...''
Apart from George this episode's central character seemed to be a supervisor who ran the ward with a Thatcherite mentality which would have gone down a bomb with the miners, a sparring couple, who fall out after Mammy decides to have their new born son circumcised. Daddy feels his manhood threatened and seems to feel the pain!
Despite all the shenanigans ER passes the test, moving at 100 miles an hour and finishing in Hill St Blues style with the central characters snuggling up to each other.
It made me realise how glad I was to be out of Temple Street, but if they ever tired to make a programme about that, it would have to be based on a Siberian Alexander Solzhynitzein novel.
There is no doubt that the media have acted like vultures in the most recent abortion furore, camped outside the caravan of the traveller family at the centre of the tragedy. Among the tactics was to offer cash to family member for interviews, a tactic which would not have been used had this family lived in a more affluent area.
The middle aged man who lost the run of himself and verbally attacked John Bowman on RTE's Questions and Answers did have a point - questions are preset for the politicians, who receive them well in advance, and are subsequently permitted to prattle on at length without being challenged, leading to little audience debate. In fact most of the audience seem to be starstruck. Politicians' attitude to abortion appears to be about getting maximum exposure without actually saying anything, mirroring Irish society's refusal to grasp the nettle. As for Q & A ``where have all the Shinners gone?''
Sraith ur teilifise o Aonad na Gaeilge BBC thuaisceart Eireann ata i Sneachta Dearg, irischalr miosuil ina mbionn meascan de scealtai comhaimseartha, agallaimh, ealain, greann agus ceol, a cur i lathair ag Karen Ní Ghallchoir augs Antaine Ni Dhonaile.
Sa chead eagran a chraoladh ar an 18u Samhna bhi amarc siar ar Oireachtas `97 i mBeal Feirste, speachadh taobh thiar donc cheamara ar ``Hollywood Anocht'' de chuid Tna G, agus ceol on ``forever-yougn'' Nick Sadlier agus a chairde i `mBreag'. Maith sibh!