The Returned: Final Episode Preview

Series One comes to an end on Sunday, but will the writers of The Returned tie everything up - or keep everyone guessing?

A second series is a doubled edged sword at the best of times. Will the quality drop? Will your favourite character make the cut? Will the writers clearly run out of steam well before the end and settle for an infuriatingly mundane conclusion?

These three issues have cropped up in various shows at different points throughout the last decade and the worst news for me last week was the existence of a second series of The Returned, due to begin filming in early 2014.

They're coming, very slowly.

Not (just) because I want answers. God, do I. But also because the show risks grubbing up its opaque narratives through another eight episodes. It's difficult to argue that the show's numerous mysteries will all be successfully resolved by 10.05pm on Sunday 28th July. But it's equally difficult to differentiate which can 'wait' and which need an answer now.


Nonetheless I do think quite a lot will be explained, particularly after last week's sharp veer into the distinctly supernatural. The return of Simon (again) would be frankly tiresome and would spoil the tone, so he should be explained (did he really commit suicide and why does he keep returning to life?)
 
Simon's relationship with Adele, and her descent into depression and attempted suicide surely can't survive the leap from Series One to Two, particularly after Sunday's shocking images. Expect a tying off there. And what to expect of Serge, mysteriously pulled under the water as he and brother Toni attempted to cross the lake? Possibly the last we've seen... until a shock return next season.

Elsewhere, the mystery of Lucy Clarsen and her psychic sex sessions with the men of the village is coming to its natural conclusion (really, no pun intended) and her presence may well be a big key to the story behind the village and her interesting appeal to the opposite sex. And other more natural elements are revealing things; the water, still draining away and flooding the power station, has uncovered the remnants of a deserted town along with hundreds of dead animals. 



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Some characters feel set up for the long haul. Victor and Pierre, both deeply unusual people, feel as though they are reaching the top of their character arcs - Victor has awakened from near-catatonic silence in recent weeks to discuss his weird new ability to rekindle horrible memories in physical form. Pierre meanwhile is fast becoming a sort of David Koresh-type figure as he leads the confused population towards 'a new beginning... it will be wonderful.' He is definitely sticking around for series two - expect him to get weirder still.

There are still many more loose ends to be tied up, not least the tenuous, slowly re-blossoming relationship between Julie and Laure, the fractured family unit of Jerome, Claire, Lena and Camille, and of course the true nature of the large group of returned glimpsed at the end of the penultimate episode.

But these should all survive well into the second series. Assuming of course the town makes it to the second series. Wouldn't that be an interesting ending?

Images courtesy of Den of Geek and Between Screens

No Shame, No Gain

My Mad Fat Diary is the latest TV programme to put its embarrassments front and centre. What makes us interested?

Embarrassing Bodies. Two Broke Girls. My Mad Fat Diary. The last one practically screams "I'M BLUSHING!!!!!" in your face through a megaphone from a mouth with melted chocolate smeared around it, possibly deliberately. The E4 show starring Sharon Rooney (no relation) is the latest in a whole series of programmes, both factual and fictional, that seem to take perverse pride in showing people struggling to exist for a few hours without making catastrophic errors of judgement.

MMFD in particular seems hellbent on cramming in as many excruciating scenarios as possible. Grab a notepad, tick them off. A mother living (and having noisy sex) with an illegal immigrant. Being evacuated from a women's clothing retailer wearing nothing but a swimsuit. Getting stuck in a slide at a pool party with cool, older boys in said swimsuit. Obesity.

The self-harm at the centre of the show is neatly used as the only real issue Rae has - and by implication you can laugh along with the rest. All's well that ends horribly, then. Still, when it comes to Shame TV, there's a lot of it floating about. Relatable? Well, yes but. Cathartic? Possibly too strong a word but there's certainly an element of that.

Increasingly TV is awash with actors that look a bit like you, with scripts that sound more like how you talk. Informally there seems to be a relationship between accessibility and the perception of wellbeing - the more materially satisfied a viewer, the more risks a show takes. And vice versa. Certainly the recession has done for comedy what Napster et al did for music.

Girls is deemed by many to be the heir equivalent of Sex and the City - but it shares little in common with its predecessor. Everything, from the actresses employed to the monosyllabic title, suggests a less fanciful show populated by women set in New York. Same place, similar ingredients - different recipe.

These stills for example. the SatC screenshot practically drips with glamour and every colour is Renaissance-rich. This is TV as perfume ad; no one would actually object here if Chanel No 5 wafted into view would they?
There are two pairs of legs crossed in these shots, but only one pair is really crossed, the other sort of slung with an arm dangling over the top. 'Coquettish' isn't a recession adjective; that's why Charlotte no longer exists in television. It's a bit like rich people getting embarrassed about Louis Vuitton print bags. They don't want to be seen with those any more.

Conversely check out the distinctly more naturalistic hues of this still from Girls, making effective use of cityscapes - brick walkway and three women sat on a wrought iron bench in front of a municipal playing grounds, coats and bags slung over the public property. The body language reflects women whose relationship with their environment is more interactive; something to use, not travel through on the way to another editorial meeting. There's a bag on the floor for God's sake.

Even being poor, a subject that raises few chuckles at the best of times, let alone the worst, is remodelled for comedic purposes. Two Broke Girls is set in a greasy diner in Brooklyn, stars two young women staring the sharp end in the face and has episodic cash-ups to help you remember how far along Dennings and Behr are to opening their own cupcake shop (the metaphor is strong - and puerile - in this one). Ignoring the appalling racist humour is tough - the show's slathered with it - but there are enough nods in the script to get you thinking; 'Could this be me?'

Naturally, watching disenfranchisement starring two stunningly beautiful women is a good deal more agreeable to viewers - possibly male viewers more than female - than a show like Only Fools and Horses, featuring men who had facial parts resembling root vegetables. American TV hasn't gone completely off the rails here and rather disingenuously it puts a pretty face on a still-desperate situation. Aspiration is streaked all over the show like bad tan lines, but it's hard to draw succour from something that has more than a hint of a bad taste.

And what of the perennially popular Big Bang Theory? This one confuses the hell out of me but Jim Parsons, Johnny Galecki and Kaley Cuoco have been churning out giggles - and winning Emmys - for 5 years now. Leaving aside the astro-whatever cardboard props each character carries around with them as character traits, the synopsis is thus: three really intelligent but equally dysfunctional people regularly act oddly and handle emotions like scientific apparatus (incidentally television, we have a problem if you think this is in any way acceptable comedy). Hilarity (your term TV guide, not mine) ensues.

Maybe it's time to do the mole test. What are the odds of seeing a man headline a show with a huge mole on the side of his face? I hate the show, but reimagine Two And A Half Men with that guy I just described replacing Charlie Sheen. Are we at that stage yet? Will we ever get there? Does the audience even want to see that? How much reality can we take?

Perhaps audiences don't need to feel as though they're watching people do things they can imagine themselves doing. Are we happy saying Allison Williams and Jim Parsons represent us? (I am, but I'm barely in the real world most of the time, by design more than choice) And maybe there still is an element that wants to see sexier, freer (read: the TV definitions) versions of ourselves.

Rooney commented recently that she wanted to see TV with 'more normal people in it.' OK, making this comment following an unsuccessful audition for Skins seems to be missing the point a bit but the more pertinent question might be: is that what the audience wants too?

Pictures courtesy of telegraph.co.uk and The Dating Jungle