This is England

This week Labour leader, Jeremy Corbyn, was hauled over the coals for refusing to participate in our national anthem. In refusing to sing a song of subjugation he was branded unpatriotic and disloyal. For Conservatives, patriotism is about honouring timeworn institutions; it is about kowtowing to history and acknowledging that because something is old it is therefore worthy. Not once in this national anthem are the people of the country mentioned; it’s all about the big man in the sky and the privileged one on the throne. Moreover, for a nation that says ‘Never again’ every November 11th, the hymn is a paean to militarism. If it sounded half as good as Rule Britannia, I might accept it, but it doesn’t: instead it sounds like a Daily Mail reader’s burp put to six verses. Is this what England is? A country enthral to God and the Queen?

No, a better representation comes in the aptly named, This is England.

The series begins with Toots and the Maytals, a Jamaican Ska Band, soundtracking a montage of England in 1983. This is an England in upheaval: from Poll Tax protestors clashing with police to the Falklands being returned to Britain, the year was a decisive one for Thatcher. With public unrest over inequitable taxation, she was close to being shown the door, but with victory in a faraway land Thatcher’s name was changed almost overnight to ‘Maggie’ - our mother and saviour. In fact, Thatcher is the silent character in the This Is England series: her mucky handprints are all over the character’s hardships as they feel the pinch of her economic and military campaigns.

Shaun Fields is a character that receives a bloody nose off the back of Thatcher’s iron fist. The film begins with a photo of Shaun’s father, a victim of the Falklands, on the mantelpiece. Having lost his father, Shaun is spiritually lost: alone and friendless, he kicks out at the world. Hope though comes in camaraderie and when Woody, a goofy gang leader, sees Shaun hurting he plays the part of surrogate, offering the boy direction and friendship. Accepted in the gang, Shaun must now look the part: being fans of Ska culture, this means Shaun is shorn like a sheep and made to sport a skinhead, much to his mum’s chagrin. To be accepted into the church of the walking bass-line though, he must undergo his confirmation and pledge his life to Doc Martins - this anointment takes place in a hilarious shoe shop scene. The first half of the film reads like a comedy – and it is. The second half of the film is anything but.

You see, the term gang is a misnomer for Woody and the guys. Their only brush with criminality is smashing up derelict buildings and smoking a bit of draw. Consequently, they simply aren’t equipped to deal with the nefariousness of Combo, an old friend just released from prison. Feeling unloved by family, society and country, Combo declares war on anything he defines as un-English: Thatcher’s phoney wars and immigration being two of them. Rejected by all and sundry, his fire and brimstone prophecies are compulsive viewing. Bewitched by his dark arts, Shaun and some of the other boys follow Combo’s fervour and become unwitting soldiers of nationalism. Woody, older and ever so slightly wiser, knows Combo is dangerous, but is too hamstrung by meekness to do anything about it. Therefore, in the battle for the boys’ soul, the devil wins. The consequences of Combo’s victory are brutally realised at the end of the movie.

That was just the film. 

This Is England’s characters have avoided the hangman’s noose by being granted a reprieve on TV. In This is England ’86 and '88 the focus widens from Shaun to include Woody and his girlfriend, Lol. Shaun has survived his racist conversion but suffers a hangover when his mum brings home a Pakistani shopkeeper. The struggle to accept his mum’s mixed-raced relationship may be a metaphor for a nation that for a long time couldn’t see past colour. His story though of teenage tantrums appears smaller when we see the struggles of Lol and Woody. 

Woody is suffering from that perennial twenty-something problem of losing your identity to a job: the brown overalls of factory floor manager don’t match Woody’s previous career as a colourful character. Assimilated into the machine, he becomes boring to the principled Lol. 

Lol is experiencing greater problems than anyone. Her father’s return has sent her free-falling. Where previously she was headstrong, now she is silenced. The menace Johnny Harris brings to the role is truly frightening. Sporting a bald patch and intimidating growl, we watch in horror as his lies make a hero of him and a liar of Lol. Seeing a brilliant, spirited woman blunted by evil is hugely dispiriting. As uneasy as this is to watch, it does give rise to some of the best acting ever committed to TV. Vicky McClure is one of Britain’s finest actors and her scenes as Lol confirm this. Her character’s seek for salvation is utterly heartbreaking and shows how child abuse doesn’t just destroy the child but the adult too. The scene where she reveals her past to a kind nurse is in my eyes one of the great moments in acting. Instead of chewing scenery, McClure reveals Lol through nuanced shifts in body and expression, making her descent into invisibility even more tragic.

Last week ‘90 began. It has the same clash of comedy and drama that its predecessors enjoy. A hilarious split-screen phone conversation between Woody and his stuffy parents shows Meadows can do sunshine as well as rain. However, with it being set during 90’s Rave Culture, you get the feeling storm clouds are gathering; with the vultures of addiction circling the dance floor, threatening to destroy the gang’s halcyon days.

Ultimately, Meadows documents England as it is. It is not the land of hope and glory. It is a land where Rule Britannia has created a false sense of superiority and subsequent racism. It isn’t a country of bowing to your superior. It is a land of misrule where our great dramatists, from Shakespeare to Meadows, can write heartbreak one minute and a cock joke the next. It is a country that has embraced disparate people and cultures to make ‘its’ people and culture better. God? The Queen? England doesn’t need them. Why? ‘Cos we have each other.

This is England '90 continues on Channel 4, Sunday 9pm.