There are few things that have ever brought me so much pleasure as The Beiderbecke Trilogy, written by Alan Plater who has died today aged 75.
The series are a curious beast; intelligent, warm, funny (though gently so, rarely displaying much effort in reaching for the jokes), political, plotted as if by slight-of-hand – in short, it is extraordinary, the most sophisticated kind of writing, and yet also an exercise in realizing a lost craftsmanship. This is the television of dry-stone-wallers, wicker-weavers and the cottage pew. In some respects it appears to be Last of the Summer Wine with a moral and social conscience – but that appearance is in itself deceptive. It is so very, very much more.
There is something that Stephen Poliakoff says about what he calls 'slow television'; that rarely in the current day do producers allow a programme – a limited unit of time – to linger on any single visual scene. It's easy to understand why this is the case, that in a tightly packed schedule, it seems obvious that every moment must be justified to funders by something happening. Silence, stillness – well, that just seems a waste – and yet it is an insult to imagine that audiences can only read the things that are being said, that they only respond to plot, and dialogue, and flashing lights, and speed. Bleak House at break-neck speed, Little Dorrit in little snatches – great, but it's not the only way, and it reduces the viewer's need to consider the events and the non-events on our screens.
There are so many brilliantly judged moments; there is a shot in The Beiderbecke Connection which pans through windows as Trevor tucks 'first-born' into bed, taking in Jill leaving the house to eventually show the yellow van driving away in the distance, which parodies Orson Welles perfectly, but with all of the skill of the original. There is the slowest car chase imaginable that turns into some Busby Berkeley routine from above. Big Al quoting Henry VI, which is such an affirming moment of there being goodness in the world: "Here begins our lasting joy".
I believe those kids already found themselves a bit of action. Sweetly, and tenderly, and in the afternoon.
It's a gorgeous line. I've not been able to track down whether it is a quotation from something, but suspect it was original to Plater who had the most tremendous ear for dialogue. Either way it's very, very good and deserves to be remembered. It all does. It's really a most brilliant thing.