Archive for Radio

Culture Vulture 1–7 August 2026

August arrives with culture in abundance. The Edinburgh Festival Fringe opens its doors for another extraordinary month of creativity, the streaming services unveil everything from Jedi adventures to foul-mouthed animated felines, while television ranges from the 1936 Berlin Olympics to the splendour of ancient Rome. Add in Tony Bennett, Frida Kahlo, the Trojan War, the Baltic resistance to Soviet occupation and a clutch of classic films, and there’s scarcely a spare evening left.

Three highlights particularly stand out this week. Tony Bennett Night on BBC Four celebrates one of the greatest singers of the twentieth century. Netflix’s irreverent animated comedy Alley Cats looks set to become an unexpected cult favourite. And, of course, the Edinburgh Festival Fringe gets under way, with Counter Culture once again covering the world’s biggest arts festival.

Saturday 1 August

10.05am – BBC Two – On the Waterfront (1954)

Marlon Brando doesn’t just act in On the Waterfront—he inhabits it. Every gesture, every pause, feels like it’s drawn from the marrow of a man torn between conscience and survival. Elia Kazan’s camera catches that tension like lightning in a bottle, framing the New York docks as both battleground and confessional. The film breathes with the grit of postwar America, where loyalty can be a curse and silence a crime.

Seventy years later, it still hits like a gut punch. Brando’s “I coulda been a contender” isn’t just a line—it’s a lament for every soul who’s ever traded integrity for comfort. The rhythm of the dialogue, the sweat on the faces, the moral weight pressing down—it all feels alive, urgent, human. On the Waterfront endures because it’s not just about corruption; it’s about the fragile courage it takes to stand up when the world tells you to stay down.

That’s cinema at its most raw and righteous—where truth isn’t polished, it’s fought for.

1.50pm – BBC Two – Meet Me in St. Louis (1944)

Meet Me in St. Louis floats along with that unmistakable MGM glow, but Judy Garland gives it its heartbeat. She doesn’t just shine—she warms the whole frame, as if Minnelli built the film around the way she could turn a simple melody into something that feels like memory itself. There’s a looseness to the storytelling, a gentle drift through seasons and family rituals, yet every scene lands with emotional precision.

Sky Arts showing it on a quiet afternoon feels right. The film moves at the pace of a lived‑in home: laughter in one room, longing in another, and outside, an America shifting under everyone’s feet. Garland anchors it with wit, vulnerability, and that voice—clear as a bell, aching without ever collapsing into sentimentality.

It’s one of MGM’s crown jewels because it understands that nostalgia isn’t soft; it’s sharp, bittersweet, and sometimes brave. A film about family that never pretends families are simple, and a musical that knows songs can carry truths spoken nowhere else.

3.00pm – Sky Arts – The African Queen (1951)

Bogart and Hepburn spark off each other with the kind of chemistry you can’t fake, the sort that feels lived‑in from the first prickly exchange. The African Queen moves with that gentle, old‑Hollywood confidence—John Huston letting the river, the heat, and the sheer absurdity of wartime adventure shape the rhythm of the story. Bogart, all rough edges and weary charm, earns that Oscar not through grandstanding but through the small, human beats: the wry grin, the stubborn grit, the flicker of vulnerability when he realises he’s no longer drifting alone.

Hepburn, sharp as a tack and radiating moral steel, matches him stride for stride. Together they turn a ramshackle boat journey into something tender, funny, and quietly heroic. The film still feels fresh because it understands that courage isn’t always loud—sometimes it’s two mismatched souls deciding to push forward, inch by inch, against a world gone mad.

6.10pm – Film4 – The Martian (2015)

Ridley Scott’s The Martian is that rare blockbuster that makes science feel like poetry. Matt Damon’s stranded astronaut doesn’t just survive—he improvises, jokes, calculates, and refuses to surrender to the void. There’s a rhythm to his resilience, a kind of jazz born of isolation and intellect. Scott directs with a steady hand, balancing the grandeur of space with the intimacy of human ingenuity.

Every frame hums with purpose: the red dust of Mars against the sterile hum of NASA’s control rooms, the heartbeat of hope pulsing through data and duct tape. Damon’s charm keeps the film buoyant, never letting the technical precision drown out the humanity.

It’s not just a survival story—it’s a hymn to problem-solving, to the stubborn spark that refuses to go out. The Martian reminds us that even millions of miles from home, courage and curiosity can still feel like gravity.

8.00pm – Channel 4 – Hitler’s Games: Berlin 1936 in Colour


Using restored colour footage, this documentary revisits the Berlin Olympics but, unfortunately maintains the myths that have grown around them. Those aware of Jesse Owens’ own recollections, particularly regarding race in America and his interactions with Hitler, provide a useful reminder that history is often more nuanced than popular memory and documentary makers allows. Most people are, perhaps, unaware that Germany topped the medal table at the 1936 Berlin Olympic Games, finishing first overall with 101 medals, including 38 golds — the highest total of any nation at those Games.

9.00pm – Sky History – Troy Story (Episodes 1 & 2)


Archaeologists, historians and classicists investigate one of antiquity’s greatest mysteries: was there really a Trojan War, and if so, where was Troy?

9.15pm – ITV4 – The Long Good Friday (1980)

The Long Good Friday hits like a clenched fist on a pub table—sudden, uncompromising, impossible to ignore. Bob Hoskins doesn’t just play Harold Shand; he detonates him. There’s a volatility in his performance, a swagger that keeps slipping to reveal fear, ambition, and that brittle pride of a man who thinks he’s about to step onto the world stage only to find the floor shifting beneath him.

Watching it now, the film still feels electric. John Mackenzie shoots London as a city on the cusp—old loyalties fraying, new money circling like sharks, the future arriving whether anyone’s ready or not. Hoskins carries all of that in his shoulders, in the way he stalks through rooms, in those sudden bursts of charm that feel like weapons as much as warmth.

Helen Mirren matches him with cool precision, giving the film its moral intelligence. Together they redefine what British crime cinema could be: sharp, political, stylish without ever losing its grit. By the time Hoskins reaches that legendary final scene, every twitch of his face tells a story of a man realising the world has outgrown him. It’s magnificent.

11.45pm – Film4 – Babylon (2022)

Babylon doesn’t tiptoe into Hollywood’s silent era—it charges in, brass blaring, champagne spilling, the whole thing vibrating with Damien Chazelle’s feverish love for the chaos that built the movies. It’s a film that refuses moderation. Every scene feels like it’s been dialled up past the point of good sense, and that’s exactly why it lingers. Chazelle isn’t interested in reverence; he’s interested in the delirium, the sweat, the ambition that made early Hollywood both monstrous and magnetic.

Watching it late at night, it hits differently. The excess becomes hypnotic. Margot Robbie’s wild‑eyed ascent, Diego Calva’s quiet heartbreak, Brad Pitt’s fading‑star melancholy—they all move with different rhythms, clashing and harmonising like a jazz band on the brink of collapse. The film swings between grotesque comedy and aching beauty, sometimes in the same breath.

It’s ambitious to the point of madness, but that’s the point. Babylon is a love letter written in spilled ink and cigarette smoke, a reminder that the birth of cinema was never clean or polite. It was loud, unruly, and utterly unforgettable.

Sunday 2 August

8.00pm – ITV1 – Van der Valk

Van der Valk moves with that cool, unhurried confidence ITV leans on for its primetime crime drama, but Marc Warren gives it the spark. His Amsterdam detective isn’t cut from the usual cloth—there’s a slyness to him, a slightly off‑centre rhythm that keeps you leaning in. He’s sharp, but never showy; weary, but never defeated. Warren plays him like a man who’s seen too much of the city’s underbelly yet still finds something worth fighting for in its canals and backstreets.

A feature‑length case suits the show. It lets the investigation breathe, lets the city become a character in its own right—sleek modern angles rubbing up against old‑world melancholy. The tone is stylish without tipping into gloss, grounded without losing its edge. You feel the pulse of Amsterdam in the way the story unfolds: measured, moody, quietly tense.

It’s the kind of crime drama that doesn’t shout. It trusts atmosphere, character, and Warren’s ability to carry a mystery with a raised eyebrow and a half‑smile.

8.00pm – Channel 4 – Richard E. Grant’s Very Modern Odyssey

Channel 4, he takes Homer’s epic—this ancient, sea‑sprayed cornerstone of storytelling—and treats it not as something to be revered from a distance, but as a living, breathing map of how we still think about journeys, heroism and home.

Grant’s curiosity gives the whole thing its pulse. He wanders through the myth with wide‑eyed enthusiasm, connecting ancient wanderers to modern ones, finding echoes of Odysseus in places you wouldn’t expect. There’s a warmth to his delivery, a sense that he’s inviting you along rather than lecturing from a podium. The show becomes part travelogue, part cultural excavation, part love letter to the stories that refuse to die.

9.00pm – BBC Four – Great Violinists at the Proms


A showcase of remarkable performances from some of the greatest violinists ever to appear at the Proms.

9.00pm – Sky Documentaries – Groomed: The Truth Behind the Lie


A thought-provoking documentary examining one of the most contentious public debates of recent years.

10.05pm – Channel 4 – Erin Brockovich (2000)

Julia Roberts is irresistible here—not just charismatic, but sharp, funny, and utterly relentless. She plays Erin like someone who’s been underestimated her whole life and has finally decided she’s done with that. Every scene carries that crackle of determination, the sense of a woman pushing back against a system that expects her to stay quiet.

Steven Soderbergh keeps the film grounded, letting the real‑life stakes speak for themselves. The small California towns, the legal offices, the kitchen‑table conversations—they all build a world where corporate power feels enormous and personal suffering feels intimate. Roberts threads those two scales together with real grace. She’s the engine of the film, but never the whole story; she listens, absorbs, fights, and refuses to let anyone’s pain be reduced to paperwork.

A reminder that sometimes the most powerful thing in the room is simply someone who won’t back down.

11.40pm – Film4 – Withnail and I (1987)

Withnail and I drifts into the night like a half‑remembered story told over the last drink in a too‑quiet pub. Bruce Robinson’s cult comedy still feels gloriously out of step with the world—shambolic, razor‑sharp, and stitched together with the kind of quotable lines that lodge themselves in your brain for years.

Richard E. Grant’s Withnail is all flailing elegance and doomed bravado, a man performing his own collapse with theatrical flair. Paul McGann’s “I” steadies the film with a gentler melancholy, the straight man who slowly realises that friendship can be both a refuge and a trap. Together they wander through a Britain that seems permanently waterlogged, chasing dignity, booze, and some vague notion of escape.

What catches you off guard, even now, is the poignancy beneath the chaos. The humour is wild, eccentric, often absurd—but the sadness is real, creeping in around the edges until that final speech lands with unexpected weight. It’s a comedy that knows how fragile people can be, and how ridiculous they often are in trying to hide it.

Monday 3 August

8.55pm – PBS America – The Anti-Soviet Fighters
The remarkable story of the Lithuanian, Latvian and Estonian resistance movements that continued fighting Soviet occupation long after the Second World War ended.

10.20pm – BBC Four – Becoming Frida Kahlo

Becoming Frida Kahlo on BBC Four is a richly crafted portrait of an artist whose life refuses to be reduced to myth. The series traces Kahlo’s experiences—her physical pain, her political convictions, her turbulent relationships—and shows how each thread wove itself into the fierce, intimate visual language that made her one of the most recognisable artists of the 20th century. It’s reflective, beautifully paced, and attentive to the emotional and political landscapes she moved through.

And right now, London is giving Kahlo the kind of major platform she hasn’t had in decades. Tate Modern is hosting Frida: The Making of an Icon, a landmark exhibition running 25 June 2026 – 3 January 2027. It’s a substantial show: more than 30 works by Kahlo, alongside photographs, garments, jewellery, personal artefacts, and over 200 pieces by contemporaries and later artists influenced by her.

It’s the first UK exhibition in over twenty years to present Kahlo at this scale, exploring not just her paintings but the construction of her identity, her political commitments, and the global phenomenon of “Fridamania.” If you’re watching the BBC Four documentary and want to see that story unfold in person, Tate Modern is where London is currently telling it.

10.45pm – BBC One – The Mist (2007)

The Mist settles over you slowly, the way real fear does. Frank Darabont takes Stephen King’s tight, unnerving novella and stretches it just enough to let the dread breathe. What begins as a simple supermarket lockdown becomes a pressure cooker—fog outside, panic inside, and that awful realisation that the monsters in the mist aren’t always the ones you should be most afraid of.

Darabont understands group psychology better than most filmmakers. You watch the crowd fracture, cling to false prophets, lash out, and crumble. The film’s rhythm shifts from quiet unease to full‑blown hysteria, and every beat feels horribly plausible. Thomas Jane gives the story its emotional spine, but it’s the ensemble—the terrified, the righteous, the broken—that makes the whole thing feel like a study in how quickly civilisation can thin.

And then there’s that ending. Still one of the most devastating choices in modern horror, not because it’s shocking, but because it’s inevitable in a way you don’t see coming. Late‑night BBC One is the perfect slot for it: a film that leaves you staring at the screen long after the credits roll, wondering what fear does to people when the world stops making sense.

11.05pm – BBC Two – Sing Sing (2023)

Sing Sing is one of those films that doesn’t just move you—it quietly shifts something inside you. At 11.05pm on BBC Two, it arrives with the emotional clarity that late‑night cinema is made for. Colman Domingo leads an extraordinary ensemble, but what makes the film remarkable is how little it relies on conventional sentiment. Instead, it trusts the raw, unvarnished power of creativity—men in a maximum‑security prison discovering that performance can be liberation, connection, even redemption.

Domingo gives a performance that feels lived‑in, patient, and deeply humane. Around him, the cast—many of them formerly incarcerated—bring a truthfulness you simply can’t manufacture. The film’s rhythm is gentle but insistent, building toward moments that feel almost miraculous in their simplicity. It’s one of the most moving pieces of recent American cinema because it never begs for sympathy; it shows transformation happening in real time, through art, trust, and the fragile courage to try.

It’s a film about the possibility of change, and the way creativity can carve out space for dignity even in the harshest of environments.

Tuesday 4 August

9.00pm – Channel 5 – The Victorians with Rob Rinder and Ruth Goodman (Catch up via 5 Streaming)

The Victorians with Rob Rinder and Ruth Goodman has that lively, hands‑on energy Channel 5 does well when it leans into practical history. Rinder brings sharp curiosity and a knack for asking the questions viewers are already thinking, while Ruth Goodman—always a joy in any historical setting—grounds everything in lived experience. She doesn’t just explain Victorian life; she shows it, tries it, tests it, and makes the era feel tactile rather than distant.

Together they explore a Britain in the midst of transformation: industry reshaping cities, new social rules emerging, domestic life shifting under the weight of progress. The tone is warm, engaging, and full of those small, fascinating details that make the period come alive. Catching up via 5 Streaming suits it perfectly—it’s the kind of programme you dip into and come away knowing something genuinely interesting about how people worked, ate, travelled, and thought during one of the most restless centuries in British history.

9.00pm – U&Gold – Joe and David’s Magical Sitcom Tour (Catch up via NOW)
A nostalgic and affectionate celebration of Britain’s sitcom heritage.

9.00pm – Sky Documentaries – The Salisbury Poisonings: The Spy Next Door (Catch up via NOW)
A compelling account of one of the most audacious espionage operations ever carried out on British soil.

LONDON, UK. March 12, 2019: Olivia Atwood arriving for the TRIC Awards 2019 at the Grosvenor House Hotel, London. Picture: Steve Vas/Featureflash

9.00pm – ITV2 – Olivia Attwood: The Price of Perfection

Olivia Attwood: The Price of Perfection is sharp, timely television—an unflinching look at the beauty industry’s collision with social media and the relentless pressure to curate perfection. At 9.00pm on ITV2, it’s not just another celebrity documentary; it’s a mirror held up to a culture obsessed with filters, fillers and validation.

Attwood approaches the subject with disarming honesty, using her own experiences to probe the contradictions of modern beauty—how empowerment and insecurity often coexist in the same selfie. The film moves between clinics, influencers and candid conversations, exposing the emotional toll behind the glossy façade.

What makes it compelling is its refusal to sneer or sensationalise. Instead, it asks difficult questions about choice, identity and the price we pay—financially and psychologically—for chasing an ideal that keeps shifting. It’s provocative, empathetic and very much of its moment: a documentary that understands the performance of perfection is never just skin‑deep.

11.05pm – BBC Two – The Last Bus (2021)

The Last Bus is a quiet film, but it carries a weight that creeps up on you. Timothy Spall gives one of his most delicate, inward performances as Tom, a widower travelling the length of Britain with nothing but a bus pass, a small suitcase and a promise he refuses to break. Spall plays him with a kind of worn gentleness—no grand speeches, no theatrics, just a man moving steadily through grief, memory and the landscapes that shaped a life shared with someone he loved.

The road‑movie structure suits the story perfectly. Each stop offers a small human moment: kindness, curiosity, the occasional misunderstanding. These encounters accumulate into something quietly profound, showing how even the simplest journey can become an act of devotion. The film never pushes too hard; it trusts Spall’s face, his silences, and the fragile determination that keeps him moving north.

It’s gentle, deeply moving, and exactly the sort of late‑night BBC Two offering that stays with you long after the credits roll.

Wednesday 5 August

12.55pm – Film4 – Monkey Business (1952)

Monkey Business is pure, unfiltered Marx Brothers mayhem—Howard Hawks giving Groucho, Harpo, Chico and Zeppo an ocean liner to run riot on, and then wisely getting out of their way. The plot barely exists, and that’s part of the charm. It’s simply a loose frame on which they hang a relentless barrage of visual gags, verbal acrobatics and beautifully deranged set‑pieces.

Groucho fires off one‑liners with that sly, sideways swagger; Harpo turns the ship into his personal playground of silent chaos; Chico bends language until it squeaks; and Zeppo, as ever, keeps the whole thing just this side of coherent. Hawks directs with a light touch, letting the brothers’ comic instincts dictate the rhythm—fast, silly, and gloriously anarchic.

It’s the kind of film that reminds you how timeless true comic invention is. The jokes don’t date because they’re built on instinct, mischief and sheer audacity. If you need proof that genius survives every era, Monkey Business delivers it with a grin and a horn blast.

4.35pm – Film4 – Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison (1957)

Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison is one of John Huston’s quiet triumphs—a wartime drama that refuses bombast and instead finds its power in restraint, character, and the fragile bond between two people caught in an impossible situation. Deborah Kerr and Robert Mitchum are superb together, their performances shaped by understatement rather than melodrama. Kerr’s Sister Angela is composed, principled, and gently humorous; Mitchum’s Allison is rough‑edged, loyal, and unexpectedly tender.

Stranded on a Pacific island as war closes in around them, the pair navigate danger with a relationship built not on romance but on mutual respect. Huston lets their connection grow in small gestures, shared silences, and the quiet recognition of each other’s strength. The film’s emotional pull comes from what isn’t said—the dignity of two people holding fast to who they are, even as the world around them collapses.

6.40pm – Film4 – Steel Magnolias (1989)

Steal Magnolias is one of those films that earns its reputation the honest way: through character, warmth and the kind of emotional truth that sneaks up on you. Set largely in Truvy’s Louisiana beauty salon, Dolly Parton presides with that effortless blend of wit and kindness, creating a space where friendship feels like a form of shelter. It’s the hub of the story, a place where lives intersect, jokes fly, and the women who gather there reveal themselves in ways they never could anywhere else.

The ensemble is enviable. Sally Field’s fierce tenderness, Julia Roberts’ luminous charm, Shirley MacLaine’s gloriously sharp humour, Olympia Dukakis’ steel‑backed grace and Daryl Hannah’s gentle vulnerability all mesh into a portrait of Southern womanhood that feels lived‑in rather than stylised. The humour is rich, rooted in character rather than caricature, and the film’s emotional turns land because they’re built on genuine connection.

It balances laughter with heartbreak in a way few films manage. The joy is real, the sorrow earned, and by the time the credits roll you feel as though you’ve spent time with people who matter.

8.00pm – Sky Arts – Voices of the Valleys (Catch up via NOW)
This celebration of the musical traditions of the South Wales Valleys explores the communities, choirs and performers who have helped shape one of Britain’s richest cultural landscapes. Blending performance with personal stories, it is a reminder that music has long been at the heart of Welsh identity and community life.

8.00pm – BBC Four – The Treasures of Ancient Rome: Pomp and Perversion
Mary Beard explores how Roman attitudes towards sex, power and violence found expression in the empire’s extraordinary art. Characteristically, she brings both scholarship and accessibility to a subject often reduced to cliché.

8.55pm – BBC Four – Mary Beard Remembers: Ultimate Rome – Empire Without Limits
A short retrospective in which Mary Beard reflects on her acclaimed 2016 series, discussing what has changed in our understanding of ancient Rome and why it continues to fascinate.

9.00pm – Film4 – Speed (1994)

Speed remains one of the defining action films of the 1990s—lean, muscular, and utterly confident in what it’s doing. At 9pm on Film4, it still feels exhilarating. Keanu Reeves plays Jack Traven with stripped‑back intensity, all focus and forward motion, while Sandra Bullock brings warmth, wit and a grounded charm that makes their pairing instantly likeable. They’re thrown together on a Los Angeles bus rigged with a bomb that will detonate if its speed drops below 50 miles an hour, and the film never lets that tension slacken.

Jan de Bont directs with a precision that keeps everything tight: no flab, no filler, just a series of escalating challenges that push the characters—and the audience—right to the edge. From the opening elevator sequence to the final stretch, it’s paced with such clarity and momentum that you barely have time to breathe. The stunts are practical, the stakes feel real, and the whole thing moves with the kind of clean, propulsive energy modern blockbusters often forget.

9.10pm – BBC Four – Mary Beard’s Ultimate Rome: Empire Without Limits
Beard examines the myths, revolutions and contradictions that shaped the Roman Empire at the height of its power. Rather than presenting Rome as a monolithic civilisation, she reveals a dynamic and often deeply contested world whose influence still reaches into modern politics, law and culture.

10.00pm – BBC Two – The Funeral Home Horror: The Big Cases (Catch up via BBC iPlayer)
One of the year’s most shocking criminal cases comes under the microscope in this concise and sensitively handled documentary. It examines how Hull funeral director Robert Bush was able to deceive grieving families over many years, pleading guilty to 67 offences that included hoarding bodies, selling fraudulent funeral plans and providing relatives with the ashes of strangers instead of their loved ones. The programme gives deserved prominence to the families whose determination has transformed personal tragedy into a campaign for tighter regulation of the funeral industry. Bush’s recent 20-year prison sentence brings a measure of justice, but the wider questions about oversight and public trust remain every bit as important.

10.10pm – BBC Four – I, Claudius (Two Episodes)
The evening concludes with two episodes of one of the BBC’s greatest dramas. Adapted from Robert Graves’ novels, I, Claudius transformed Roman history into gripping television, boasting unforgettable performances from Derek Jacobi, Siân Phillips, John Hurt and Brian Blessed. Nearly half a century later it has scarcely dated.

Thursday 6 August

Talking Pictures TV – The History of Mr. Polly (1948)

The History of Mr. Polly is one of those British classics that feels like it’s been quietly waiting for people to rediscover it. Anthony Pelissier’s 1948 adaptation of H. G. Wells’ novel gives John Mills one of his most engaging roles: Alfred Polly, a draper stuck in a life of small disappointments and quiet frustration, who finally decides—after a string of comic mishaps—that he’s had enough. His solution isn’t heroic in the traditional sense; it’s simply the stubborn, hopeful act of reinventing himself.

Mills plays Polly with a wonderfully light touch, blending humour, melancholy and a kind of gentle bewilderment at the world. Pelissier keeps the tone nimble, shifting between satire, poignancy and outright farce without losing the thread of Wells’ affection for ordinary people yearning for something better. The film’s charm lies in its humanity: it understands how small lives can contain big dreams, and how reinvention often begins with a single, slightly ridiculous leap.

It deserves to be better known—a warm, witty slice of post‑war British cinema that still feels fresh in its empathy and its comic spirit.

9.30am – BBC Radio 4 – The Guitar Story

Bob Dylan’s decision to plug in an electric guitar at Manchester’s Free Trade Hall in 1966 remains one of rock history’s defining moments, but this series asks a much broader question: why has the guitar become such a potent cultural symbol? Presenter John Wilson explores the instrument’s musical, political and social significance, drawing on contributions from some of the world’s leading guitarists. Insightful, entertaining and rich with musical examples, it promises to strike the right chord with musicians and music lovers alike.

6.45pm – Film4 – The Electrical Life of Louis Wain (2021)

The Electrical Life of Louis Wain is a gently dazzling piece of cinema, and at 6.45pm on Film4 it’s exactly the sort of story that rewards settling in and letting its eccentricities wash over you. Benedict Cumberbatch brings warmth, vulnerability and a wonderfully off‑kilter charm to Louis Wain, the Victorian illustrator whose cat paintings—wide‑eyed, colourful, increasingly fantastical—became a cultural sensation. He plays Wain not as a caricature of genius, but as a man whose creativity is inseparable from his emotional fragility, his curiosity and his deep, aching need to make sense of the world.

Claire Foy provides superb support as Emily, his wife and anchor, giving the film its emotional centre. Their relationship is tender without sentimentality, and the film’s most affecting moments come from the quiet devotion between them. Beneath the whimsical visuals and playful tone lies a thoughtful portrait of love, mental health and the ways imagination can both illuminate and overwhelm a life.

It’s visually rich, emotionally generous and quietly haunting—a biographical drama that understands that the line between delight and sorrow is often thinner than we think.

9.00pm – BBC One – Who Do You Think You Are? (Catch up via BBC iPlayer)

Olympic heptathlete Katarina Johnson-Thompson explores her family history, travelling from Liverpool to the Bahamas and Miami, where her father Ricardo was born. As ever, the series combines meticulous genealogical research with powerful personal stories, revealing how individual family histories are often shaped by much broader currents of migration, hardship and resilience.

9.00pm & 10.00pm – Sky Atlantic – Possession (Catch up via NOW)

Gugu Mbatha-Raw stars as Claudia, a woman of dual heritage whose own identity becomes inseparable from the mystery she has been asked to investigate. Her search takes her from Britain to Hope Hill, a Jamaican plantation inherited following the death of a British aristocrat, where buried family secrets and the enduring legacy of empire begin to emerge. Rich in atmosphere and historical resonance, it promises to combine a compelling mystery with thoughtful exploration of memory, inheritance and identity.

11.05pm – BBC Two – Women Talking (2022)

Women Talking is a film that proves conversation can be as gripping as any physical drama. Sarah Polley’s adaptation of Miriam Toews’ novel unfolds almost entirely through dialogue—women in an isolated religious community gathering to decide their future after a profound betrayal. Yet the stillness is charged; every exchange carries weight, urgency and moral complexity.

The ensemble is remarkable. Rooney Mara, Claire Foy, Jessie Buckley, Judith Ivey, Sheila McCarthy and Frances McDormand each bring a distinct emotional register, creating a chorus of voices wrestling with faith, justice, forgiveness and survival. Polley’s direction is clear‑eyed and compassionate, allowing the women’s arguments, doubts and hopes to shape the film’s momentum.

It’s demanding in the best way—intellectually rigorous, emotionally piercing, and unafraid of silence. But it’s also richly rewarding, a rare film that treats thought, debate and collective decision‑making as acts of courage.

11.40pm – Film4 – Dance with a Stranger (1985)

Dance with a Stranger is a stark, absorbing piece of British cinema, and at 11.40pm on Film4 it lands with the quiet force it’s always had. Miranda Richardson is outstanding as Ruth Ellis, the last woman to be executed in Britain—a performance that’s brittle, magnetic and painfully human. She never plays Ellis as a symbol or a headline; she plays her as a woman caught in a destructive relationship and a society unwilling to see the full truth of her circumstances.

Mike Newell directs with restraint, refusing sensationalism. Instead, he shapes a tragic portrait of obsession, domestic abuse and a justice system on the brink of change. The film’s power lies in its understatement: the violence is never lurid, the emotions never overstated, and the political implications emerge naturally from the story rather than being imposed on it.

It’s a sombre, compelling drama that lingers, not because it shouts, but because it understands how tragedy often unfolds quietly—one bad decision, one cruel moment, one system failing to recognise the complexity of a life.

Friday 7 August

6.40pm – Film4 – Ad Astra (2019)

Ad Astra is James Gray working on an epic canvas while telling a story that’s almost disarmingly intimate. At 6.40pm on Film4, it plays like a slow, steady pulse in deep space. Brad Pitt gives one of his most restrained and quietly affecting performances as Roy McBride, an astronaut whose outward calm masks a lifetime of emotional isolation. His mission—to track down his father at the edge of the solar system—becomes less a sci‑fi quest than a reckoning with absence, abandonment and the cost of holding yourself too tightly together.

Gray treats space not as spectacle but as a vast, echoing metaphor. The film is visually magnificent—lunar chases, drifting debris fields, the cold beauty of Neptune—but every image serves the emotional journey rather than overwhelming it. Pitt anchors the film with a stillness that draws you in, and Tommy Lee Jones, as the father he’s chasing, gives the story its aching centre.

It’s contemplative, atmospheric and quietly powerful, a film that values introspection as much as action and finds its drama in the spaces between people rather than the void between planets.

9.45pm – BBC Four – Tony Bennett Night

Few compliments in popular music carry more weight than Frank Sinatra’s description of Tony Bennett as “the best singer in the business”, and Bennett spent a lifetime justifying it. The evening begins with Tony Bennett at the London Palladium, a 2011 BBC concert featuring effortless performances of classics including The Good Life, alongside memorable duets with Cleo Laine and Leona Lewis.

The celebration continues with all six episodes of Tony Bennett Sings, his 1979 BBC series devoted to the Great American Songbook, before concluding with Tony Bennett’s New York (1996), an affectionate profile reflecting on his remarkable career and lifelong relationship with the city that shaped him. A fitting tribute to one of the twentieth century’s greatest interpreters of popular song.

28 Days Later still hits with the jolt it had in 2002. Danny Boyle took the zombie film—shambling, familiar, a bit creaky by that point—and detonated it. His vision of a deserted, hollowed‑out Britain is as unsettling as ever: empty motorways, silent cities, danger lurking in every shadow. The horror is visceral and fast, driven by the now‑iconic “rage” infected who move with terrifying speed, but the film’s real power comes from its atmosphere of abandonment and unease.

Cillian Murphy’s emergence from a coma into a devastated London remains one of the great opening sequences of modern horror, and Boyle keeps the pace furious without sacrificing thoughtfulness. The film asks what society becomes when its structures collapse, and what people become when survival is the only currency left.

It’s fast, furious and unexpectedly reflective—a defining horror film of the twenty‑first century, and still one of the most influential.

11.05pm – BBC Two – Hoard (2023)

Hoard is an emotionally raw and quietly unsettling debut, the kind of film that doesn’t chase conventional storytelling but instead follows the strange, jagged paths grief can carve through a life. At 11.05pm on BBC Two, it feels exactly right for late‑night viewing: intimate, off‑kilter, and lingering.

The film explores memory, loss and the coping mechanisms people build—sometimes tender, sometimes troubling—to survive what they can’t fully articulate. Its structure is unconventional, shifting between past and present with a dreamlike logic that won’t appeal to everyone, but that very looseness gives it its power. It’s less about plot than about emotional texture, the way trauma embeds itself in objects, habits and relationships.

What stays with you is its honesty. It doesn’t tidy grief into something neat or redemptive; it shows how messy, strange and deeply human it can be. 

11.50pm – Film4 – Last Night in Soho (2021)

Last Night in Soho is Edgar Wright at his most visually seductive and tonally unsettling. At 11.50pm on Film4, it’s a perfect late‑night watch: stylish, eerie and steeped in nostalgia that slowly curdles into something darker. Wright blends psychological horror with a time‑slip fantasy that pulls a modern‑day fashion student, played with fragile intensity by Thomasin McKenzie, into the neon‑lit glamour of 1960s Soho.

What begins as a dream of Swinging London becomes a nightmare as she becomes entangled with the life of Anya Taylor‑Joy’s mesmerising singer, whose confidence and allure mask a story of exploitation and fear. Wright recreates the period with loving detail—music, colour, fashion, atmosphere—then twists it, revealing the shadows beneath the shimmer.

It’s melancholy as much as frightening, a thriller driven by mood, memory and the danger of idealising the past. McKenzie and Taylor‑Joy are excellent, anchoring a film that’s as emotionally haunting as it is visually dazzling.

2.10am – Film4 – Sick of Myself (2022)

Sick of Myself is a wickedly funny and deeply uncomfortable satire—one of those films that makes you laugh even as you wince. At 2.10am on Film4, its bite feels even sharper. The Norwegian black comedy follows a young woman so consumed by narcissism and the hunger for attention that she embarks on increasingly extreme, self‑destructive schemes to stay in the spotlight.

The film skewers modern performative culture with fearless abandon. It’s provocative, frequently outrageous, and unafraid to push its protagonist into territory that’s both absurd and painfully recognisable. The humour is razor‑sharp, the social commentary brutal, and the escalation of her behaviour both horrifying and hilarious.

Uncomfortable, provocative and often laugh‑out‑loud funny, it stands as one of the sharpest social comedies of recent years—an audacious portrait of self‑obsession taken to its logical, disastrous conclusion.

Streaming

Prime Video (available now)
Marty Supreme
One of the week’s biggest streaming arrivals, Marty Supreme comes with plenty of anticipation and a cast to match. Whether you’re drawn by the performances or simply curious to see what the buzz is about, it’s likely to dominate conversations over the coming weeks.

Prime Video (available now)
Masters of the Universe
Eternia returns in a new adaptation of one of popular culture’s most enduring fantasy franchises. Sword-and-sorcery spectacle, colourful heroes and larger-than-life villains remain the order of the day, promising nostalgic pleasure for those who grew up with He-Man while introducing the mythology to a new generation.

HBO Max (available now)
President Curtis
The Rick and Morty universe continues to expand with this spin-off centred on the perpetually exasperated President Andre Curtis, once again voiced by Keith David. Faced with mysterious crashes and increasingly bizarre threats, Curtis has to keep the country together while the absurdity around him spirals ever further out of control.

Monday 3 August – Acorn TV
The Chelsea Detective – Series 4 (weekly episodes)
Adrian Scarborough returns as DI Max Arnold, with Vanessa Emme as DS Layla Walsh, for another run of elegant murder mysteries hidden behind Chelsea’s immaculate façades. The opening investigation centres on the death of an undercover journalist looking into a celebrity fashion guru.

Wednesday 5 August – Disney+
Star Wars: Visions Presents – The Ninth Jedi (all eight episodes)
One of the most acclaimed entries in Star Wars: Visions expands into a full series as Kara continues her Jedi training under Margrave Juro. A new generation of Jedi sets out to rescue her father while confronting a mysterious Sith leader. It promises the visual flair and imaginative storytelling that made the original such a standout.

Wednesday 5 August – Prime Video
Sterling Point (all six episodes)
A coming-of-age drama following young adults navigating friendship, ambition and uncertain futures. If it fulfils its promise, this should be a warm, emotionally honest addition to the genre.

Friday 7 August – Netflix
Alley Cats (all six episodes)
Cat lovers have an extra reason to tune in this week. Ricky Gervais is among the creative forces behind this gleefully foul-mouthed adult animation, following cynical Gus, uncouth Fang, disgusting Puke and gloriously dim Olive as they roam the streets causing mayhem while mocking their pampered feline friend Ponts. Everything changes with the arrival of a lost kitten, giving the gang an unexpected shared purpose.

The premise is classic sitcom, but the semi-improvised dialogue feels closer to a wonderfully chaotic comedy podcast, veering into discussions about death, religion and whether honeybees are underachieving. Packed with colourful language and episodes running comfortably under half an hour, this unapologetically adult cartoon could become one of the year’s surprise comedy hits.

Leaving Soon

BBC iPlayer (until Thursday)
Great Expectations (1946)
David Lean’s magnificent adaptation of Dickens remains the definitive screen version. Beautifully photographed, superbly acted and rich in atmosphere, it is well worth revisiting while it’s still available.

Radio

Sunday 2 August

1.30pm – BBC Radio 4 – Britain’s Robot Army
Former Army officer Will Robson examines how drones, autonomous systems, laser weapons and artificial intelligence are transforming the economics of modern warfare. As armed forces around the world rethink the balance between manpower and machines, he asks what tomorrow’s battlefield might look like and what these technological changes could mean for Britain’s defence strategy. Timely, thought-provoking and likely to raise as many questions as it answers.

9.00pm – Boom Radio – Sir Tim Rice’s Legacy Tracks
Who comes to mind when you hear Good Vibrations or Baker Street? The Beach Boys and Gerry Rafferty, naturally—but what about Paul Tanner, whose prototype electro-theremin gave Good Vibrations its otherworldly sound, or Raphael Ravenscroft, whose unforgettable saxophone solo transformed Baker Street into an all-time classic? Sir Tim Rice shines a welcome spotlight on the gifted musicians, arrangers and innovators who so often remain in the shadows. Beautifully assembled, the programme is packed with fascinating stories behind classics including YesterdayTelstar and even the Doctor Who theme. For anyone who loves the craft behind great records, this is an absolute treat.

Wednesday 5 August

3.30pm – BBC Radio 4 – The Ocean Within Us
A fascinating exploration of one of the most intriguing medical discoveries of recent years. Prompted by the publication of a landmark 2018 scientific paper, this programme examines the interstitium—a fluid-filled network of microscopic spaces surrounding our organs, joints and connective tissues that appears to function as a previously unrecognised organ. Researchers are increasingly linking it to wound healing, regulation of the body’s internal clock and the way cancer spreads between tissues. Complex science is made accessible in what promises to be an absorbing listen for anyone interested in medicine and the frontiers of human biology.

Thursday 6 August

9.30am – BBC Radio 4 – The Guitar Story
Bob Dylan’s decision to plug in an electric guitar at Manchester’s Free Trade Hall in 1966 remains one of popular music’s defining moments, but this series asks a much broader question: why has the guitar become such a potent cultural symbol? Presenter John Wilson explores the instrument’s musical, political and social significance, drawing on contributions from some of the world’s leading guitarists. Insightful, entertaining and rich with musical examples, it promises to strike the right chord with musicians and music lovers alike.

Edinburgh Festival Fringe (7–31 August)

The term “Fringe” was coined in 1947 when eight theatre companies turned up uninvited to the newly created Edinburgh International Festival and staged their own performances on the margins of the official programme. From those gloriously independent beginnings, the Fringe has grown from the city’s alternative sideshow into its cultural crown jewel, while also serving as Britain’s closest equivalent to an off-Broadway proving ground, where new shows are tested, careers are launched and tomorrow’s hits are born.

Here at Counter Culture, we’ve been building up to the festival for weeks with a series of interviews featuring performers from across this year’s programme. Once the Fringe gets under way, we’ll have three reporters on the ground in Edinburgh, bringing you interviews, reviews, features and daily updates throughout the month.

More than 3,600 productions are expected this year, encompassing everything from major comedy names and ambitious new drama to live podcast recordings, music, cabaret, dance and more reimagined Shakespeare than you could shake a bodkin at. Choosing a single highlight from this megalodon of a festival would be impossible, so instead here is a small selection of interviews with performers with productions that have particularly caught my eye.

 

00:45:00 – Five Walk In. One Walk Out. The Audience Decides.

Kate Butch: Camp, Chaos and Kindness at the Fringe

John‑Luke Roberts: Running, Talking, and Twisting Comedy Into New Shapes

Elton Reimagined: Jess Robinson’s Joyful, Bonkers, Brilliant Tribute

 

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Culture Vulture 25–31 July 2026

This week’s viewing is haunted—in the best possible sense—by history. Whether it is the grandeur and eventual collapse of Ancient Rome, the moral shadows of the Second World War, the raw psychological scars left by terrorism, or the enduring power of great music and cinema, broadcasters have assembled an unusually rich schedule that rewards curiosity as much as simple entertainment.

There is also a striking thread running through the week’s selections: the stories we tell ourselves. Monster and Taxi Driver challenge our assumptions about truth and perception; documentaries revisit the Gunpowder Plot, the Roman Empire and one of the defining terrorist conspiracies of the modern age; while streaming services continue to mine history, fashion, crime and horror for fresh audiences.

Three recommendations stand above the rest. BBC Two’s tribute to the late Bonnie Tyler celebrates one of Britain’s most distinctive rock voices. Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver remains one of the greatest American films ever made and is perfectly complemented by BBC Four’s evening celebrating cinema of the 1970s. History enthusiasts, meanwhile, are spoilt with Roman documentaries, Lucy Worsley’s latest investigation and Ken Burns’ magnificent explorations of the American past.

Saturday 25 July

1.05pm – BBC Two – High Society (1956)

There’s a certain magic in High Society that refuses to fade, no matter how many decades pass. Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra glide through Cole Porter’s melodies with effortless charm, their voices weaving a kind of urbane spell that feels both playful and timeless. Grace Kelly, poised and luminous, gives her final performance before stepping into royalty — and that knowledge lends every glance, every smile, a quiet ache beneath the glamour.

Louis Armstrong’s presence lifts the film beyond its polished veneer, injecting warmth and swing into Newport’s highbrow world. The jazz sequences sparkle with spontaneity, a reminder that sophistication needn’t be stiff. Porter’s songs — “True Love,” “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” — still shimmer with wit and longing, as if written yesterday.

It’s a film that dances between elegance and emotion, champagne and sincerity. The satin gowns, the clipped dialogue, the easy rhythm of its music — all combine into a portrait of Hollywood grace at its peak. Watching it now, you sense not nostalgia but continuity: a reminder that style, when married to heart, never truly goes out of fashion.

2.50pm – BBC Two – Casablanca (1942)

Every so often, a film earns the right to be called a masterpiece — Casablanca is one of those rare few. Humphrey Bogart’s weary cynicism and Ingrid Bergman’s luminous grace create a chemistry that feels almost mythic, as if the camera caught lightning in a bottle. Michael Curtiz directs with a precision that never shows its seams, letting the story unfold with the inevitability of fate and the tenderness of memory.

The setting — wartime Morocco, a crossroads of refugees, spies and dreamers — hums with tension and longing. Every line seems carved from history, every shadow charged with meaning. “Here’s looking at you, kid” isn’t just a farewell; it’s a benediction, a promise that love can survive even when the world is falling apart.

What makes Casablanca endure isn’t nostalgia but truth. Beneath the trench coats and cigarette smoke lies a moral clarity: the idea that doing the right thing may cost you everything, yet still be worth it. If you’ve never seen it, this is the moment to surrender to its spell — because some stories don’t just belong to cinema; they belong to us all.

8.30pm – BBC Two – Bonnie Tyler at the BBC

Bonnie Tyler, her music lives on. Picture credit: S. Kuelcue / Shutterstock.com

In the wake of Bonnie Tyler’s recent death, this tribute feels heavier than it otherwise might — not sombre, but weighted with the kind of reflection that arrives when a voice you assumed would always be there suddenly isn’t. The BBC digs into its archive and, in doing so, reminds you just how unmistakable she was. That rasp wasn’t a stylistic choice or a studio trick; it was her — lived‑in, weathered, defiant, capable of cutting straight through the gloss of any era.

Watching her early performances, you see the grit before the global fame, the way It’s a Heartache carried a rawness that set her apart from the polished pop of the late ’70s. Then comes the full‑throttle theatricality of Total Eclipse of the Heart, a song so outsized it could have swallowed a lesser singer whole. Tyler didn’t just survive it — she owned it, turning bombast into something strangely intimate.

This compilation charts a career that never really fit into neat categories. She could be pop, rock, power ballad, Eurovision, all at once, and still sound entirely like herself. Now, with her gone, these performances land differently: not just nostalgia, but a reminder of how rare it is for an artist to carve out a sound that can’t be mistaken for anyone else.

It’s a celebration, yes — but also a farewell to a voice that once filled stadiums and still somehow felt like it was singing directly to you.

9.00pm – Channel 4 – Gran Turismo (2023)

What sounds, on paper, like the most improbable of true stories turns out to be one of those sports dramas that sneaks up on you. Gran Turismo takes a teenager who mastered racing lines on a console and drops him into the brutal, unforgiving world of professional motorsport — and somehow makes that leap feel not just plausible, but thrilling.

The film has a glossy sheen, all high‑speed tracking shots and immaculate race sequences, but beneath the polish there’s a surprisingly grounded emotional core. You feel the weight of the risks, the sheer physicality of the sport, and the stubborn determination required to prove that a gamer can hold his own against seasoned drivers who’ve lived their entire lives on the track.

It’s slick, yes, but not hollow. The racing is exhilarating, the human story sincere, and the whole thing carries a pulse of genuine heart that keeps it from drifting into mere brand exercise. By the time the final lap arrives, you’re not thinking about the improbability of the premise — you’re simply caught up in the momentum of someone refusing to accept the limits placed on them.

10.20pm – BBC One – Gladiator (2000)

Ridley Scott’s Gladiator didn’t just revive the sword‑and‑sandal epic — it reshaped it, giving the genre a muscular emotional core it had rarely possessed. More than two decades on, the film still hits with the force of a battering ram. Russell Crowe’s Maximus remains one of those performances that seems carved from granite: stoic, wounded, driven by a sense of honour that feels almost archaic now, yet utterly compelling on screen.

The opening battle still crackles with energy, all smoke, mud and chaos, a reminder of how Scott can marshal spectacle without losing sight of character. And then there’s Hans Zimmer’s score — that soaring, mournful blend of orchestral heft and Lisa Gerrard’s haunting vocals. It’s the kind of music that doesn’t just accompany a film; it inhabits it, shaping the emotional landscape as surely as the Colosseum’s towering walls.

What keeps Gladiator alive, though, isn’t the scale but the sincerity. Beneath the armour and the bloodshed lies a story about loyalty, grief and the stubborn refusal to bow to corruption. It’s grand, yes, but never hollow — a blockbuster with a beating heart, still capable of stirring something deep even after countless re‑watches.

10.25pm – BBC Four – Monster (2023)

Hirokazu Kore‑eda has a gift for stories that unfold quietly, then suddenly take hold of you — and Monster might be his most intricate yet. It begins as one thing, then becomes another, then something else again, each shift peeling back another layer of assumption. What looks, at first glance, like a simple tale of a troubled schoolboy gradually reveals itself as a knot of perspectives, each one sincere, each one incomplete.

The film’s structure — replaying key events from different viewpoints — inevitably recalls Rashomon, but Kore‑eda uses the device with a gentler touch. Instead of dramatic reversals, you get slow realisations, the kind that make you sit back and reconsider everything you thought you understood. Adults misread children; children misread adults; everyone misreads everyone. Prejudice, fear and the urge to protect collide, and the truth emerges not as a single revelation but as a fragile, human mosaic.

By the time the final act arrives, the emotional weight is unmistakable. Kore‑eda isn’t interested in villains or heroes — only in the damage caused when people cling too tightly to their own version of events. It’s beautifully acted, beautifully judged, and quietly devastating.

Sunday 26 July

1.00pm–8.00pm – Sky History – Rome: Rise and Fall of an Empire

An entire afternoon given over to the drama of ancient Rome is never time wasted. This series traces the city’s ascent with a storyteller’s instinct for momentum — legions pushing outward, generals carving their names into the map, and politicians sharpening their ambitions in the Senate’s shadow. You get the sweep of conquest, the theatre of intrigue, and the sheer audacity of an empire that believed its dominion would last forever.

What keeps it compelling is the way the programme shifts from triumph to fragility. The cracks appear slowly at first: overstretched borders, corrupt leadership, internal rivalries that fester until they become fatal. By the time the fall arrives, it feels less like a single event and more like a long, inevitable unravelling.

For anyone fascinated by the ancient world — its grandeur, its brutality, its lessons — this is richly satisfying viewing. It’s history presented with pace and clarity, the kind that leaves you thinking about how power rises, how it slips away, and how even the mightiest empires are never as permanent as they believe.

2.00pm – Sky Cinema Premiere – Eleanor the Great (2025)

This is one of those dramas that doesn’t shout for attention but earns it quietly, scene by scene. Eleanor the Great follows an older woman who refuses to accept the soft fade society expects of her — and the film treats that determination not as a grand rebellion, but as something tender, stubborn and deeply human.

There’s a warmth to it that never tips into sentimentality. You watch Eleanor navigate the small indignities and unexpected freedoms of later life, and the story unfolds with a kind of gentle confidence, trusting character over spectacle. The film’s strength lies in its detail: the pauses in conversation, the flicker of doubt before a decision, the sudden spark of joy when she realises she can still shape her own future.

It’s humane, understated and quietly defiant — the sort of mid‑afternoon premiere that leaves you thinking about the ways people reinvent themselves long after the world has stopped paying attention.

7.00pm – ITV1 – Force of Nature

(Box set on ITVX)

ITV’s latest wildlife series arrives with the kind of polish you expect from a Sunday‑night centrepiece, but what gives Force of Nature its pull is the sheer scale of what it captures. This isn’t a gentle amble through picturesque scenery; it’s a front‑row seat to the raw mechanics of the natural world, where survival is a daily negotiation and beauty often comes laced with danger.

Each episode zeroes in on a different environment, letting the drama emerge organically from the creatures that inhabit it. Predators stalk with unnerving patience, herds move like living weather systems, and the camera lingers just long enough to show how fragile the balance can be. There’s a rhythm to the storytelling — moments of stillness followed by bursts of tension — that keeps the series from feeling like a mere showcase of impressive shots.

The production values are unmistakably ITV: crisp visuals, sweeping aerials, and narration that guides rather than intrudes. It’s designed to appeal broadly, but it never talks down to its audience. Instead, it leans into the emotional weight of watching nature operate on its own terms, reminding you how much drama exists without a script.

As Sunday‑night viewing, it’s both soothing and gripping — a glossy, immersive wildlife programme that earns its place in the schedule by simply letting the natural world speak for itself.

8.00pm – BBC Four – John Wilson at the Proms

The Sinfonia of London performs Verdi’s exhilarating La Forza del Destino Overture, Walton’s lyrical Cello Concerto and Respighi’s dazzling Roman Trilogy. A rich evening for lovers of orchestral music.

8.00pm – BBC Four – Searching for Sam: Adrian Dunbar on Samuel Beckett

Adrian Dunbar explores the life and work of fellow Irishman Samuel Beckett, tracing the experiences that shaped one of the twentieth century’s most influential playwrights. Affectionate, thoughtful and illuminating.

8.00pm – Sky History – The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire (1 of 2)

Continuing the day’s Roman theme, this documentary examines how the greatest empire of antiquity gradually succumbed to internal decay and external pressure.

9.00pm – BBC One – The Rapture (Part One)

(Box set on BBC iPlayer)

BBC One’s The Rapture opens its two‑night run with the kind of confidence that marks a genuine flagship drama. From the first scenes, it’s clear the BBC is aiming big: mystery, emotional tension, and a slow, unsettling sense that something is fundamentally wrong beneath the surface of ordinary life.

Part One introduces the central hook with admirable restraint. A sudden, unexplained global event — a moment of mass disappearance that leaves communities fractured and terrified — becomes the catalyst for the story. People vanish without warning, leaving those left behind scrambling for answers. The drama follows several characters trying to make sense of what’s happened: a mother searching for her missing son, a journalist piecing together contradictory accounts, and officials who seem as bewildered as everyone else. The plot doesn’t rush to explain the phenomenon; instead, it lets the confusion and fear settle in, giving the audience space to feel the shock alongside the characters.

Visually, the production has that moody BBC sheen: wide, atmospheric shots, a colour palette that shifts between domestic warmth and creeping dread, and a score that tightens its grip as the episode progresses. The direction favours stillness — long pauses, lingering looks — which makes the moments of panic land harder.

What elevates The Rapture beyond standard disaster drama is its emotional focus. The suspense grows out of human reactions: guilt, denial, desperation, the instinct to cling to any explanation that might make the world feel coherent again. The script understands that the real drama isn’t the event itself, but the way people respond when the rules of reality suddenly stop behaving.

As an opener, Part One is gripping, unsettling and impressively controlled. It sets up the mystery without overplaying it, builds characters you want to follow, and leaves you with the unmistakable sense that the real answers — and the real shocks — are waiting in Part Two. With the full box set already on iPlayer, resisting the urge to continue immediately will be difficult.

10.00pm – Channel 4 – The Forgiven (2021)

John Michael McDonagh’s The Forgiven is a drama that begins with a single catastrophic mistake and then spends the rest of its running time circling the moral fallout with a cold, unblinking eye. Ralph Fiennes and Jessica Chastain play David and Jo Henninger, a wealthy, brittle couple travelling to a lavish weekend party in the Moroccan desert. On the drive there, David — drunk, irritable, and catastrophically careless — hits and kills a young local man. That moment becomes the film’s hinge: everything that follows is shaped by the collision between privilege and accountability, guilt and denial, Western detachment and local expectation.

The party they eventually arrive at is a bubble of decadence, hosted by Richard (Matt Smith) and Dally (Caleb Landry Jones), whose guests treat the accident as an inconvenience rather than a tragedy. McDonagh uses this setting to expose the casual cruelty of people insulated by wealth — the way they rationalise, minimise, and ultimately distance themselves from the consequences of their actions. Fiennes is superb as David, a man who initially tries to shrug off responsibility but slowly, almost unwillingly, begins to confront the enormity of what he’s done. Chastain, meanwhile, plays Jo with a cool detachment that gradually fractures as the moral pressure builds.

The film’s most compelling thread comes when the victim’s father arrives, insisting David accompany him to the remote village for the burial. What follows is not a revenge narrative but a cultural reckoning: a journey that forces David to face a community whose grief is real, whose anger is justified, and whose expectations of honour and restitution are far removed from the partygoers’ blasé worldview. The Moroccan landscape — harsh, vast, unforgiving — becomes an extension of the film’s themes, dwarfing the characters and stripping away their pretences.

McDonagh’s script is sharp, cynical and morally probing. He’s less interested in neat resolutions than in the uncomfortable spaces where guilt, arrogance and cultural misunderstanding collide. The film refuses to let its characters off the hook, yet it also avoids simplistic moral binaries. Everyone is compromised; everyone is flawed; everyone is, in some way, implicated.

The Forgiven is not a thriller in the conventional sense — its tension comes from character rather than plot — but it’s gripping, unsettling and quietly devastating. A drama that exposes the rot beneath privilege and asks what forgiveness really means when the damage cannot be undone.

10.00pm – BBC Two – Taxi Driver (1976)

Nearly fifty years on, Taxi Driver still feels like a live wire — a film that hasn’t dulled, softened or lost its sting. Martin Scorsese’s portrait of urban isolation remains one of the defining works of American cinema, a study of a man slipping through the cracks of society until the cracks become chasms.

Robert De Niro’s Travis Bickle is the centre of that descent: a Vietnam veteran turned New York cabbie, prowling the city’s night streets with a gaze that’s equal parts fascination and disgust. De Niro’s performance is extraordinary in its restraint — the quiet, simmering unease, the clipped speech, the sense of a man trying to impose order on a world he no longer understands. Travis is unsettling not because he is monstrous, but because he is recognisably human, his alienation built from small, painfully ordinary moments.

Scorsese’s New York is a character in its own right: neon‑soaked, grimy, restless, a city that seems to sweat. The camera glides through it like a ghost, observing rather than judging, letting the environment press in on Travis until his worldview becomes claustrophobic. Bernard Herrmann’s final score — completed just before his death — adds a mournful, jazzy tension that perfectly matches the film’s mood.

The supporting cast deepens the film’s complexity. Jodie Foster, astonishingly young, brings a raw vulnerability to Iris, the teenage sex worker Travis fixates on saving. Cybill Shepherd’s Betsy represents a different kind of unreachable ideal — a symbol of normality Travis longs for but cannot inhabit. Their interactions reveal the gulf between Travis’s fantasies and the reality around him.

What makes Taxi Driver endure is its refusal to offer easy answers. It’s a film about loneliness, rage, delusion and the dangerous allure of self‑appointed heroism. Scorsese doesn’t moralise; he simply shows a man spiralling and a society unable — or unwilling — to notice.

The final act remains one of cinema’s most debated sequences, a violent eruption that is both cathartic and deeply troubling. Even now, Travis Bickle continues to unsettle, his story echoing through decades of cultural conversation about masculinity, alienation and the thin line between vigilante and victim.

A masterpiece of mood, character and moral ambiguity — and still, after all these years, a film that refuses to let you look away.

10.20pm – ITV1 – Terror in the Skies: Stopping the Liquid Bomb Plot

(Catch up on ITVX)

For nearly twenty years travellers have accepted strict limits on carrying liquids through airport security, often without knowing the extraordinary story behind them. This documentary revisits the 2006 investigation that uncovered an alleged conspiracy to destroy multiple transatlantic airliners using liquid explosives concealed in drinks bottles. Through archive footage and first-hand testimony, it explains how one counter-terrorism operation transformed air travel around the world.

11.50pm – BBC Two – The Elephant Man (1980)

David Lynch’s profoundly humane portrait of Joseph Merrick balances visual beauty with emotional power. John Hurt and Anthony Hopkins deliver performances of extraordinary compassion.

12.15am – Channel 4 – Stand by Me (1986)

Rob Reiner’s adaptation of Stephen King’s novella captures childhood friendship with warmth, humour and heartbreaking honesty. Every viewing reminds you why it has become a modern classic.

Monday 27 July

9.00pm – BBC One – The Rapture (Part Two)

(Catch up on BBC iPlayer)

The concluding instalment of the BBC’s ambitious drama brings together the threads established the previous evening. Without giving too much away, the series proves less interested in easy shocks than in the emotional consequences of extraordinary events. Intelligent mainstream drama that trusts its audience.

9.00pm – Sky Cinema Drama – Passing (2021)

Rebecca Hall’s Passing is one of the most quietly devastating films of the past few years — a work of remarkable restraint, emotional intelligence and formal beauty. Adapting Nella Larsen’s 1929 Harlem Renaissance novel, Hall crafts a drama that feels both period‑precise and piercingly modern, exploring race, identity and the fragile performances people adopt to survive in a divided society.

The story centres on two childhood friends whose adult lives have diverged in stark, unsettling ways. Tessa Thompson plays Irene, a middle‑class Black woman navigating the social world of 1920s Harlem with careful composure. Ruth Negga is Clare, dazzling, impulsive and living a life built on a dangerous lie: she has chosen to pass as white, marrying a wealthy white man who is oblivious to her heritage. Their reunion sets off a slow, intimate unraveling — a dance of fascination, envy and unease that grows more charged with each encounter.

Hall’s direction is exquisite. Shot in luminous black and white, the film uses its visual palette not as a stylistic flourish but as a thematic anchor. The contrasts — light and shadow, clarity and obscurity — echo the characters’ inner conflicts. The 4:3 aspect ratio tightens the frame, creating a sense of emotional confinement that mirrors Irene’s increasingly brittle state of mind. Every composition feels deliberate, every silence weighted.

Thompson and Negga are superb. Thompson gives Irene a controlled, almost fragile dignity, a woman trying to maintain order in a world that keeps shifting beneath her feet. Negga, by contrast, is radiant and unsettling — Clare’s charm is irresistible, but there’s a desperation beneath it, a longing for belonging that makes her choices both understandable and tragic. Their scenes together crackle with tension, affection and something harder to name.

What makes Passing so powerful is its subtlety. Hall avoids melodrama, letting the emotional stakes build through glances, pauses, and the unspoken fears that accumulate between the two women. The film understands that identity is never fixed, that belonging can be both a refuge and a trap, and that the cost of reinvention can be devastating.

It’s a delicate, haunting piece of work — a film that lingers long after it ends, not because of any single dramatic moment, but because of the quiet ache running through every frame.

Tuesday 28 July

8.00pm – Sky Atlantic – The Vampire Lestat

Anne Rice’s immortal anti-hero finally steps further into the spotlight. Lavishly produced and unapologetically gothic, this continuation of the Interview with the Vampire universe revels in decadent performances, dark romance and centuries of intrigue. Fans of intelligent supernatural drama should feel very much at home.

9.00pm – Sky Atlantic – Gomorrah: The Origins

The acclaimed Neapolitan crime saga turns back the clock to examine the formative years of the criminal empire that shaped the original series. Expect moral ambiguity, relentless tension and an unflinching portrait of organised crime. If the standard matches its predecessor, this could become essential viewing.

9.00pm – BBC Four – The Madness of King George (1994)

Nicholas Hytner’s adaptation of Alan Bennett’s celebrated play remains one of the crown jewels of British historical cinema — a film that balances wit, sorrow and political sharpness with extraordinary finesse. Nearly three decades on, it still feels fresh, lively and emotionally piercing.

Nigel Hawthorne delivers a magnificent performance as George III, capturing the monarch’s eccentric charm, his flashes of sharp intelligence, and the heartbreaking unraveling that follows his descent into mental illness. Hawthorne’s portrayal is never one‑note: he is funny, irritable, vulnerable, imperious and frightened, often within the same scene. It’s a performance that makes the king’s suffering both tragic and strangely dignified.

The film charts not only George’s personal crisis but the political turmoil it triggers. As the king’s behaviour becomes increasingly erratic, Parliament circles like vultures, factions manoeuvre for advantage, and the question of who truly governs Britain becomes dangerously unstable. Bennett’s writing shines here — sharp, humane, and laced with the dry humour that prevents the drama from ever becoming heavy-handed.

Hytner’s direction brings theatrical precision without sacrificing cinematic sweep. The production design is sumptuous, the pacing brisk, and the tone perfectly judged: the film is never afraid to be funny, even in moments of deep sadness, which only heightens the emotional impact.

The supporting cast is a roll‑call of British acting talent at the top of their game. Helen Mirren is superb as Queen Charlotte, offering quiet strength and aching loyalty. Ian Holm’s Dr Willis brings a stern, unsettling authority, while Rupert Everett, Amanda Donohoe, Geoffrey Palmer and Julian Wadham all contribute richly textured performances that deepen the political and personal stakes.

What makes The Madness of King George endure is its humanity. It’s a story about power, vulnerability and the thin line between eccentricity and crisis — but above all, it’s about a man struggling to hold onto himself as the world around him shifts.

A beautifully crafted, deeply moving historical drama, and one of the finest ever produced in Britain.

10.45pm – Film4 – American Star (2024)

American Star is a far more reflective film than its logline suggests. On paper, it’s a thriller about an ageing contract killer sent to the Canary Islands for one final job. In practice, it’s a quiet, melancholy character study — a film that uses the trappings of a genre piece to explore loneliness, regret and the faint, flickering possibility of redemption.

Ian McShane is superb. He plays Wilson with a kind of worn‑down elegance: a man who has spent decades dealing death and now finds himself unexpectedly confronted by the weight of all those choices. McShane’s performance is understated, almost minimalist, but every pause, every glance, every half‑spoken line carries history. He’s a man who has lived too long in silence, and the film lets that silence speak.

The plot is deliberately spare. Wilson arrives on Fuerteventura expecting a straightforward assignment, only to find his target absent. That delay becomes the film’s engine. With nothing to do but wait, he drifts through the island, forming tentative connections with locals — a bartender, a young woman, a child — each encounter nudging him toward a kind of emotional thaw. The landscape itself becomes part of the story: vast, windswept, and indifferent, mirroring Wilson’s internal emptiness while offering him a strange, unexpected solace.

Director Gonzalo López‑Gallego keeps the pacing slow and meditative. The film favours long takes, quiet conversations and stretches of stillness where the only drama is what’s happening behind McShane’s eyes. It’s a bold choice, and it pays off. Rather than building tension through action, American Star builds it through introspection — the sense that Wilson is finally, perhaps fatally, reckoning with the man he has become.

There are thriller elements, yes — shadows of danger, hints of violence, the ever‑present question of whether Wilson will complete his mission — but they’re secondary to the film’s emotional core. This is a story about a man trying to understand whether redemption is possible when your life has been defined by harm.

Quiet, thoughtful and unexpectedly moving, American Star is a slow‑burn gem anchored by one of Ian McShane’s finest late‑career performances. It lingers not because of what happens, but because of what it dares to sit with: the loneliness of a life misspent, and the fragile hope that even at the end, change might still be possible.

11.05pm – BBC Two – The New Boy (2023)

(Also available on BBC iPlayer)

Warwick Thornton’s beautifully photographed Australian drama stars Aswan Reid alongside Cate Blanchett in the story of a mysterious Aboriginal boy brought to a remote monastery in the 1940s. Blending spirituality, colonial history and quiet magic realism, it unfolds at an unhurried pace, asking profound questions about faith, identity and cultural survival. A thoughtful, haunting film that rewards patience.

Wednesday 29 July

From 8.00am – PBS America – Ken Burns Day

(Catch up via Freeview Play)

PBS America celebrates the birthday of documentary master Ken Burns with a day devoted to the filmmaker whose meticulous historical series, including The Civil WarBaseballThe Vietnam War and Hemingway, helped redefine television documentary. It is an excellent opportunity to discover two earlier works that deserve to be much better known in Britain.

8.00am & 3.50pm – Lewis and Clark: The Journey of the Corps of Discovery (1997)

Narrated by Hal Holbrook, Burns’s four-part series recounts the epic expedition that opened up the American West in the early nineteenth century. Richly illustrated with journals, paintings and Burns’s trademark blend of archive material and evocative narration, it turns one of America’s defining adventures into gripping television.

1.15pm & 8.50pm – Horatio’s Drive: America’s First Road Trip (2003)

One of Burns’s lighter and most charming films tells the unlikely story of Horatio Nelson Jackson, the first person to drive across the United States in 1903. Tom Hanks provides the voice of Jackson, while the documentary celebrates the spirit of adventure that accompanied the birth of the motor car. Quirky, affectionate and quietly inspiring.

9.00pm – BBC Two – Lucy Worsley Investigates: The Gunpowder Plot

Lucy Worsley has a gift for stripping away centuries of myth to reveal the complicated realities beneath familiar historical events. Here she revisits the Gunpowder Plot, questioning accepted narratives and examining the political and religious tensions that made 1605 one of the most turbulent years in English history. History presented with scholarship, warmth and genuine curiosity.

11.00pm – Film4 – The Florida Project (2017)

Sean Baker’s The Florida Project remains one of the most moving and quietly radical American films of the past decade — a portrait of childhood lived on the margins, told with compassion, vibrancy and an unflinching honesty that never slips into exploitation or sentimentality.

Set in the pastel‑coloured motels that sit in the long shadow of Walt Disney World, the film follows six‑year‑old Moonee and her young mother Halley as they navigate a precarious existence just outside the gates of a place built on fantasy. Baker uses this setting brilliantly: the proximity to Disney’s manufactured magic becomes a constant reminder of the gulf between the dreams sold to tourists and the harsh realities faced by the families living week‑to‑week in budget accommodation.

The young cast is astonishing. Brooklynn Prince’s performance as Moonee is one of the most natural and emotionally rich child performances in recent memory — mischievous, imaginative, fearless, and heartbreakingly unaware of how fragile her world is. Her scenes with her friends have a documentary‑like spontaneity, capturing the joy and chaos of childhood with remarkable authenticity.

Opposite her, Bria Vinaite brings raw, volatile energy to Halley, a mother doing everything she can to survive, even when her choices push her closer to disaster. The film never judges her; instead, it shows how systems fail people long before they fail themselves.

Willem Dafoe provides the film’s quiet anchor as Bobby, the motel manager who becomes an unofficial guardian to the children. It’s one of his finest performances — gentle, weary, and deeply humane. Bobby sees everything, understands more than he ever says, and tries to hold the chaos at bay with small acts of kindness that feel monumental in context.

Baker’s direction is vibrant and empathetic. Shot on 35mm, the film’s colours pop with almost storybook intensity, a visual echo of the children’s perspective. Yet beneath the brightness lies a growing tension, a sense that the fragile balance of Moonee’s life cannot hold forever.

The final scenes are devastating in their simplicity, capturing the collision between innocence and reality with a grace that stays with you.

11.15pm – BBC Four – Eye in the Sky (2015)

Gavin Hood’s Eye in the Sky is one of the most gripping and intellectually rigorous thrillers of the past decade — a film that understands that modern warfare is often fought not on battlefields, but in conference rooms, legal briefings and cramped control stations where every decision carries unbearable weight.

Helen Mirren leads the ensemble as Colonel Katherine Powell, a steely, determined officer overseeing a joint UK–US operation to capture high‑value terrorist targets in Kenya. What begins as a surveillance mission quickly escalates when the suspects prepare for a suicide attack, forcing Powell and her team to consider a drone strike. The complication — and the heart of the film — arrives in the form of a single innocent girl who wanders into the blast zone.

From that moment, Eye in the Sky becomes a tense moral crucible. The film meticulously examines the chain of command: military officials, legal advisers, politicians and drone operators all wrestling with the same impossible question — is it justifiable to kill one innocent person to save many others? Hood’s direction keeps the tension razor‑sharp without ever resorting to cheap theatrics. The drama comes from hesitation, debate, and the crushing responsibility of making a decision that cannot be undone.

Alan Rickman, in one of his final screen roles, is superb as Lieutenant General Frank Benson, bringing weary authority and quiet moral clarity to a character caught between political caution and human empathy. Aaron Paul adds emotional depth as the drone pilot struggling with the reality of what he may be asked to do.

What makes the film so effective is its restraint. It refuses to offer easy answers or tidy moral conclusions. Instead, it shows how modern warfare has become a web of ethical dilemmas, technological precision and human fallibility. Every character is forced to confront the limits of their own principles, and the audience is left to sit with the same discomfort.

Eye in the Sky is tense, intelligent and deeply unsettling — a thriller that grips not through action, but through the unbearable weight of choice.

Thursday 30 July

8.00pm – Sky Arts – Talking Pictures: 70s Legends

A nostalgic celebration of one of cinema’s greatest decades, when ambitious directors reshaped Hollywood and produced an astonishing run of classics. Packed with archive material and affectionate reminiscences, it is an ideal warm-up for the evening’s film.

9.00pm – BBC Two – Taxi Driver (1976)

If Sunday’s screening left you wanting another look, BBC Two obliges. Martin Scorsese’s masterpiece loses none of its power with repeated viewing. Robert De Niro’s lonely, damaged Travis Bickle remains one of cinema’s most unforgettable creations, while Bernard Herrmann’s haunting final score perfectly captures the film’s unsettling atmosphere.

9.00pm – Channel 5 – Benidorm’s Murder

A true-crime documentary exploring a case that shocked one of Britain’s favourite holiday destinations. Beyond the sensational headlines lies a thoughtful examination of the investigation and the human stories caught up in it.

9.00pm – Sky Documentaries – Ricky Gervais: Politics

This profile revisits Ricky Gervais’s provocative relationship with fame, comedy and public controversy. Whatever your view of him, there is no denying his influence on British comedy over the past quarter-century.

9.00pm – Sky Arts – The Life and Deaths of Christopher Lee

Christopher Lee’s extraordinary life was every bit as remarkable as his screen career. Soldier, linguist, singer and one of cinema’s greatest horror icons, his story stretches from the Second World War to The Lord of the Rings. A fitting tribute to a uniquely fascinating actor.

10.00pm – Channel 4 – The Smuggling Business Undercover

An investigative documentary examining the sophisticated criminal networks that profit from smuggling and illegal trafficking. Sobering viewing that illustrates the global scale of organised crime.

10.30pm – Sky Arts – Hammer Heroes, Legends and Monsters

Hammer Heroes, Legends and Monsters is a richly enjoyable celebration of the studio that reshaped British horror and exported its gothic imagination to the world. Sky Arts approaches Hammer Films not as a relic of the past but as a creative force whose influence still pulses through modern genre cinema, and the result is a documentary that feels affectionate, informed and genuinely fun.

The programme traces Hammer’s rise from modest post‑war productions to its golden age of lurid colour, fog‑shrouded castles and unforgettable monsters. At the centre of it all, of course, are Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing — two actors whose partnership and contrasting styles helped define the studio’s identity. Lee’s imposing physicality and brooding menace, paired with Cushing’s precision, warmth and moral gravity, created a dynamic that elevated even the most outrageous storylines. Their performances remain the beating heart of Hammer’s legacy, and the documentary gives them the reverence they deserve.

Beyond its iconic stars, the film digs into the wider ensemble of writers, directors and character actors who contributed to Hammer’s unmistakable tone. It highlights how the studio blended theatricality with sincerity, turning limited budgets into atmospheric triumphs through clever lighting, bold production design and a willingness to push boundaries. Interviews and archival material underline just how influential Hammer became — not only in horror, but in shaping the visual language of genre filmmaking across Europe, America and beyond.

Sky Arts also acknowledges the cultural impact: Hammer’s films were controversial, adored, dismissed, rediscovered and ultimately canonised. Their blend of sensuality, violence and gothic excess paved the way for everything from modern vampire dramas to prestige horror. Even filmmakers who have never consciously imitated Hammer often borrow its rhythms, its colour palette, its sense of operatic dread.

As a tribute, Hammer Heroes, Legends and Monsters succeeds because it understands what made the studio special. It’s not just the monsters or the melodrama — it’s the craftsmanship, the commitment, and the actors who treated even the wildest scripts with absolute seriousness.

A warm, engaging and thoroughly enjoyable salute to the studio that turned British gothic horror into a global phenomenon.

11.00pm – Film4 – The Blackening (2022)

A knowing horror-comedy that cheerfully plays with the conventions of the slasher genre while poking fun at the clichés that have long defined Hollywood horror. Funny, inventive and far smarter than its premise initially suggests.

11.15pm – Sky Arts – National Theatre Live: Dr Strangelove

The National Theatre’s stage adaptation of Dr Strangelove is an audacious undertaking — not simply because Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 film is one of the most iconic political satires ever made, but because its tone is so precise, its humour so razor‑edged, and its Cold War absurdity so indelibly tied to cinema. What’s remarkable is how confidently the NT reimagines it for the stage, finding fresh theatrical energy without losing the bite of the original.

Steve Coogan leads the production with a virtuoso turn, taking on multiple roles and leaning into the film’s darkly comic spirit while adding his own timing and physicality. He captures the manic logic of Kubrick’s world — the bureaucratic panic, the swaggering incompetence, the apocalyptic farce — and channels it through a performance that feels both affectionate and sharply contemporary.

The adaptation embraces theatricality rather than trying to mimic the film. The staging is inventive, using bold visual design, stylised movement and rapid shifts in tone to evoke the escalating madness of nuclear brinkmanship. The War Room scenes crackle with satirical tension, while the bomber sequences become surreal, almost vaudevillian riffs on military bravado.

What gives the production its staying power is how relevant it feels. The Cold War may have ended, but the themes — political ego, military overconfidence, technological escalation, the terrifying fragility of global stability — remain painfully current. The play doesn’t update the story so much as let today’s world echo through it, making the satire land with renewed force.

As a live theatrical event, Dr Strangelove is bold, funny, unsettling and impressively crafted. It honours Kubrick’s masterpiece while proving that its warnings — and its humour — still resonate powerfully on a stage in 2026.

Friday 31 July

9.00pm – Channel 5 – A Twisted Tale of Amanda Knox

Nearly two decades after the murder of Meredith Kercher, the Amanda Knox case continues to provoke fierce debate. This documentary revisits the investigation, the sensational media coverage and the legal twists that transformed a tragic crime into one of the defining true-crime stories of the twenty-first century.

9.00pm – PBS America – Britain’s Killer Wave of 1607

Could Britain’s greatest natural disaster have been a tsunami rather than a catastrophic storm surge? This fascinating documentary examines the evidence behind the mysterious flood that devastated communities around the Bristol Channel more than four centuries ago. History, geology and detective work combine to challenge long-held assumptions.

10.50pm – BBC Two – The Green Mile (1999)

10.50pm – BBC Two – The Green Mile (1999)

10.50pm – BBC Two – The Green Mile (1999)

Frank Darabont’s The Green Mile remains one of the most emotionally overwhelming experiences in mainstream American cinema — a film that takes its time, earns every tear, and builds a world where cruelty, compassion and the supernatural coexist with unsettling ease.

Set in a 1930s death‑row block, the story follows prison guard Paul Edgecomb (Tom Hanks), whose steady moral compass is tested when a new inmate arrives: John Coffey, played with extraordinary gentleness by Michael Clarke Duncan. Coffey is a giant of a man, physically imposing yet childlike in demeanour, convicted of a horrific crime that he insists he did not commit. As Paul and his colleagues witness Coffey’s miraculous healing abilities, the film shifts from a straightforward prison drama into something more spiritual — a meditation on justice, suffering and the possibility of grace in the darkest places.

Hanks anchors the ensemble with quiet authority, giving Paul a decency that never feels sentimental. Duncan’s performance, meanwhile, is the film’s soul: dignified, wounded, and suffused with compassion. His portrayal of Coffey is one of the great feats of emotional acting in ’90s cinema, and it remains devastating.

Darabont directs with patience and confidence. The film is long — deliberately so — allowing relationships to deepen and moral dilemmas to unfold without haste. The supporting cast adds texture throughout: David Morse’s steady kindness, Doug Hutchison’s chilling cruelty, Sam Rockwell’s chaotic menace, and James Cromwell’s weary humanity. Each contributes to the film’s layered portrait of life inside “the Mile.”

What makes The Green Mile endure is its sincerity. It tackles capital punishment, systemic injustice and human frailty without preaching, instead inviting viewers to sit with the contradictions and heartbreaks of its world. The supernatural elements never feel gimmicky; they amplify the film’s emotional stakes, pushing its characters — and its audience — to confront the limits of mercy.

Richly rewarding, beautifully acted and emotionally shattering, The Green Mile remains one of the most affecting prison dramas ever made. It’s a film that stays with you long after the lights go down.

11.15pm – Channel 4 – Fresh (2022)

What begins as an offbeat modern romance takes an audacious turn into psychological horror. Sebastian Stan is chillingly charismatic in a film that skewers contemporary dating culture while never forgetting to entertain. Best approached knowing as little as possible.

Streaming

Prime Video – The Devil’s Mouth

(Available from Friday 25 July)

Prime’s latest original thriller follows a journalist drawn into a decades-old conspiracy that refuses to stay buried. Atmospheric and intelligently plotted, it promises the sort of slow-burning suspense that rewards careful attention rather than relying on cheap shocks.

YouTube – Together

(From Tuesday 28 July)

This independently produced documentary explores how communities rebuild trust after conflict and division. Thoughtful and quietly optimistic, it proves that some of the most rewarding viewing can still be found outside the major streaming platforms.

Disney+ – Furious

(From Monday 27 July)

A stylish new action series balancing spectacular set pieces with an unexpectedly strong emotional core. Slickly produced and fast-moving, it should appeal to anyone looking for escapist entertainment with a little more substance than usual.

HBO Max – President Curtis

(From Monday 27 July)

Political drama meets dark satire in this series imagining an unconventional presidency under intense public scrutiny. Cleverly written and sharply observed, it explores power, personality and modern media culture with equal wit.

Paramount+ – Primate

(From Wednesday 29 July)

Part thriller, part psychological drama, Primate examines ambition, scientific ethics and the sometimes uncomfortable relationship between human beings and the natural world. An intriguing addition to Paramount+’s growing catalogue of original drama.

Disney+ – The Devil Wears Prada 2

(From Wednesday 29 July)

Nearly two decades after the original became a cultural phenomenon, Miranda Priestly returns. Fashion, ambition and razor-sharp dialogue remain the order of the day, with the sequel aiming to introduce a new generation to one of cinema’s most memorable magazine editors.

Netflix – The Bombing of Pan Am 103

(From Thursday 30 July)

This six-part documentary begins in the immediate aftermath of the Lockerbie disaster, following the painstaking investigation into the bombing and the long search for answers. Combining testimony, archive material and forensic detail, it revisits one of the darkest chapters in modern British history with the seriousness and sensitivity the subject demands.

Radio

Saturday 25 July

8.00pm – Radio 4 – Archive on 4: The People’s Pool

Denise Mina tells the remarkable story of Glasgow’s Grade A-listed Govanhill Baths, once threatened with closure but ultimately saved through one of the longest occupations of a civic building in British history. Built to improve both public health and recreation, the baths embodied the belief that every child should leave able to swim, however modestly. More than a local history, this is a fascinating account of community activism, public ownership and determined resistance, illustrating how ordinary people can preserve institutions that matter long after official support has disappeared.

Monday 27 July

11.00pm – Radio 4 – Intimacy

Lena Headey stars in a thoughtful contemporary drama as an intimacy coordinator working on a film set in Greece whose carefully ordered professional life is unsettled by the unexpected arrival of someone from her past. A character-driven piece exploring memory, relationships and the emotional complexity that often lies beneath apparently controlled lives.

Tuesday 28 July

9.00am – Radio 4 – Invisible Hands: The American Century

David Dimbleby begins a new series examining how the United States emerged as the dominant global power during the twentieth century. Characteristically measured and richly informed, the series promises to combine political history with the personalities, ideas and events that reshaped the modern world.

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Culture Vulture 20th – 26th June 2026

There are weeks when television and film simply provide entertainment, and there are weeks when they seem to engage in a wider conversation. This is one of the latter. Running through this week’s selections are questions about memory, identity and the stories nations tell about themselves. From Brazil’s obsession with football to the American Revolution, from the anti-apartheid movement to Brexit ten years on, from the Somme to Jack the Ripper, the past is everywhere.

Yet this is not a week trapped by nostalgia. Alongside the historical themes come reflections on artificial intelligence, internet culture, celebrity, science fiction and the future itself. Add in some superb classic cinema, a welcome celebration of comedy legends such as Mel Brooks and Rick Mayall, and a rare chance to revisit one of Britain’s greatest television dramas, and there is plenty here to reward curiosity. Selections and writing are by Pat Harrington.

🌟 Highlights

🌟 Goolagong (BBC Four, Saturday) – the story of one of the greatest sporting figures of the twentieth century.

🌟 Sound of Metal (BBC Two, Tuesday) – one of the most moving and original films of recent years.

🌟 Our Friends in the North (BBC Four, Wednesday) – still one of the finest dramas British television has ever produced.

Saturday 20th June

John Snow: A Last Big Story – Channel 4, 8.00pm

John Snow’s final broadcast feels less like a curtain call and more like a reckoning with time itself. The veteran journalist — now living with Alzheimer’s — turns the camera inward, tracing the contours of memory as both a gift and a thief. For decades he stood at the heart of history: wars, revolutions, elections, human triumphs and tragedies. Now, the story he’s telling is his own.

This is not a sentimental goodbye but a lucid, brave exploration of what it means to lose the very faculties that once defined a life’s work. Snow speaks with the same candour that marked his reporting, acknowledging the fog that sometimes descends and the grace of those who help him navigate it — especially his wife, Precious, whose presence here is tender and grounding.

The “last big story” is not about politics or conflict; it’s about the endurance of truth when memory falters. It’s about love, dignity, and the stubborn light of curiosity that refuses to go out. A moving, humane hour — and a reminder that journalism, at its best, is an act of empathy.

Goolagong – BBC Four, 9.00pm and 9.50pm (Episodes 1 & 2 of 3)

Evonne Goolagong Cawley’s story has always felt bigger than tennis — a life lived at the intersection of sporting brilliance and cultural change. These opening chapters trace her rise from a small Australian town to the centre court of the world, a journey shaped as much by quiet resilience as by natural grace.

What emerges is not just a portrait of a champion but of an Indigenous woman navigating a country that often refused to see her fully. The series treats her achievements with the respect they deserve, but it also lingers on the deeper legacy: how she became a symbol of possibility for those who had been told to expect little. A thoughtful, beautifully paced tribute.

Big (1988) – Great TV, 6.50pm

There’s a reason *Big* still works: beneath the high‑concept premise sits a film with real heart. Tom Hanks — all open‑faced wonder and awkward limbs — gives one of those performances that seems effortless until you try to imagine anyone else doing it.

The comedy is warm rather than wacky, the emotion earned rather than engineered. And in the middle of it all is that bittersweet truth the film never quite says aloud: childhood is fleeting, adulthood arrives too quickly, and sometimes the only way to understand either is to stand in the wrong shoes for a while.

The Odessa File (1974) – Talking Pictures TV, 9.05pm

A taut, wintry thriller adapted from Frederick Forsyth’s bestseller, *The Odessa File* plunges into the murky world of post‑war secrets and the shadow networks that tried to keep the past buried. Jon Voight plays the journalist drawn into a conspiracy that feels both sprawling and claustrophobic, the kind where every answer only deepens the unease.

It’s very much of its era — all cold streets, coded messages and moral ambiguity — but that’s part of its power. A reminder that history doesn’t end cleanly; it lingers, waiting to be uncovered.

The Hitcher (1986) – Legend, 3.05am

A late‑night shocker that still has the power to unsettle. Rutger Hauer’s performance as the enigmatic hitchhiker is one of those rare turns that elevates a genre film into something mythic: calm, charismatic, and terrifying precisely because he never overplays it.

The film itself is lean and relentless, a road movie that becomes a nightmare with no safe exits. If you’re awake at this hour, it will stay with you longer than you expect.

The Frighteners (1996) – Film4, 12.05am

Before Middle‑earth came calling, Peter Jackson made this wonderfully odd supernatural comedy‑horror — a film that refuses to sit neatly in any one box. Michael J. Fox anchors the chaos with charm, while Jackson fills the frame with inventive effects, tonal shifts and a sense of mischief that feels very much his own.

It’s a film that deserved a kinder reception on release, and time has only strengthened its cult appeal. Strange, stylish, and surprisingly heartfelt.

Sunday 21st June

Free Nelson Mandela (Episode 2 of 3) – Channel 4, 9.00pm

A compelling examination of the international campaign that helped bring apartheid to an end.

Later… with Jools Holland – BBC Two, 10.00pm

From Alexandra Palace Theatre, featuring Shania Twain, KNATS, Arlo Parks and Sam Smith. Later remains one of the best showcases for live music on television.

Gaia (2021) – Film4, 1.45am

A late‑night curio with real bite. *Gaia* takes the familiar language of eco‑horror — the forest as something ancient, watchful, and quietly furious — and pushes it into stranger, more psychological territory. The film’s power lies in its atmosphere: humid, oppressive, and threaded with the sense that nature is no longer content to be background scenery.
It’s a story about guilt and stewardship, but also about the thin line between reverence and fear. Visually striking, thematically unsettling, and perfect for the small hours when the world feels a little too alive.

The Vikings (1958) – Great Action, 2.30pm

A glorious slice of old‑school Hollywood adventure, all roaring seas, clashing swords and Technicolor swagger. Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis throw themselves into the spectacle with the kind of commitment modern blockbusters rarely muster — every gesture big, every emotion worn proudly on the surface.
It’s a film from a time when historical epics were built on charisma rather than CGI, and its charm lies in that very theatricality. Broad, bold, and irresistibly entertaining.

Goldfinger (1964) – ITV1, 4.20pm

For me, Goldfinger isn’t just a Bond film — it’s the Bond film. The one where everything clicks into place: the swagger, the style, the danger, the flirtation, the sense that the whole enterprise has suddenly discovered its own mythology. Sean Connery is at his most relaxed and lethal, moving through the film with that effortless mix of charm and steel that no one has ever quite matched.

But what really seals its place as my favourite is the humour threaded through Ulrich Goldfinger’s dialogue — that dry, almost courtly villainy that makes every exchange a pleasure. There’s a theatricality to him, a sense that he enjoys the game as much as Bond does, and the script gives him lines that still sparkle decades later.

Sleek, confident and endlessly rewatchable, Goldfinger is the moment Bond stopped being a series of spy capers and became a cultural institution — and it still feels like the gold standard.

Hidden Figures (2016) – Film4, 6.30pm

A genuinely uplifting drama that earns every emotional beat. *Hidden Figures* tells the story of the Black women mathematicians whose brilliance helped steer NASA through the early space race — a chapter of history too long overlooked.

The film balances its inspirational arc with sharp performances and a clear‑eyed understanding of the barriers these women faced. It’s a celebration not just of intellect, but of persistence, dignity and the quiet heroism of being excellent in a world determined not to see you.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017) – Channel 4, Midnight

Martin McDonagh’s darkly comic drama walks a tightrope between fury and tenderness. Frances McDormand is extraordinary as a mother weaponising grief into action, while the film circles themes of justice, forgiveness and the messy, contradictory ways people try — and fail — to be better.
It’s prickly, provocative, and impossible to shake. A midnight screening feels fitting: this is a story that sits with you long after the credits roll..

Monday 22nd June

Britain’s Railway Empire in Colour – More4, 9.00pm

There’s something quietly mesmerising about colourised archive footage — the way it collapses the distance between then and now. This series uses it to bring Britain’s industrial and transport heritage vividly back to life, revealing a world that feels both familiar and impossibly distant. Steam, steel and soot become not just historical artefacts but lived textures, reminders of the ingenuity and labour that built the modern country. A gentle, absorbing watch.

Lucy Worsley Investigates: Jack the Ripper – BBC Two, 9.00pm

Worsley takes a welcome detour from the usual true‑crime obsession with suspects and theories. Instead of asking who Jack the Ripper was, she asks what the murders did to us — how they shaped the modern appetite for grisly narratives, sensational reporting and the commodification of fear. It’s a thoughtful reframing, peeling back the mythology to reveal the cultural machinery beneath. Less whodunnit, more why‑we‑still‑care.

Andy Warhol’s America: Living the Dream – BBC Four, 9.00pm

Warhol understood celebrity long before the rest of us caught up. This documentary explores the artist not just as a painter or provocateur, but as a kind of cultural antenna — someone who sensed where America was heading and mirrored it back with unnerving clarity. Fame, consumerism, reinvention: Warhol didn’t just depict the American dream, he dissected it. A sharp, stylish portrait of an artist who saw the future and shrugged.

House of the Dragon – Sky Atlantic, 9.00pm

The fires of Westeros burn on. This chapter of the Targaryen saga continues to revel in dynastic politics, betrayals and the uneasy dance between power and prophecy. Dragons soar, alliances crumble, and every conversation feels like a prelude to violence. It’s grand, operatic television — the kind that understands the pleasure of watching a world eat itself from the inside out.

American Visions: The Way from the Atlantic – BBC Four, 10.00pm

A rich, expansive look at how waves of immigration reshaped American art and identity. This episode traces the cultural currents that flowed from the Atlantic into the American imagination, showing how new arrivals transformed not just the country’s demographics but its creative language. A thoughtful, beautifully curated hour for anyone interested in how nations reinvent themselves.

Secrets of the Celebrity Sex Tapes – Channel 4, 11.05pm

A provocative but revealing dive into a phenomenon that helped redefine modern fame. The programme examines how leaked tapes — once scandals — became stepping stones in the machinery of celebrity culture, blurring the lines between exploitation, agency and opportunism. It’s a story about voyeurism, power and the strange economy of attention that governs the digital age.

The Producers (1967) – BBC Two, 11.00pm

Mel Brooks’ debut feature still feels like a controlled explosion of comic energy. Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder are a perfect double act — one volcanic, the other perpetually on the brink of collapse — and the film’s audacity hasn’t dimmed with time. Satire this bold shouldn’t work, yet it does, gloriously. A riotous, meticulously crafted masterpiece.

The Phantom of Soho (1964) – Talking Pictures TV, 11.30pm

A rare chance to catch a German *Krimi* — those stylish, atmospheric crime thrillers often adapted from Edgar Wallace novels. *The Phantom of Soho* offers all the genre’s pleasures: fog‑shrouded streets, eccentric villains, and a mystery that feels both pulpy and oddly elegant. A cult curio, and a reminder of how inventive European genre cinema could be in the 1960s.

Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa (2013) – BBC One, 12.30am

One of the few TV‑to‑film transitions that genuinely works. *Alpha Papa* keeps Partridge’s small‑scale pettiness intact while placing him in a hostage‑crisis plot that somehow amplifies his absurdity rather than overwhelming it. Steve Coogan is superb, balancing pathos and pomposity with surgical precision. A late‑night treat for anyone who appreciates comedy built on exquisite discomfort.

Tuesday 23rd June

Peter Murrell: The Man with the Money – BBC Two, 7.00pm

A cool‑headed look at one of the most contentious recent chapters in Scottish politics. The documentary traces how Peter Murrell — once a discreet operator behind the scenes — became a central figure in a story that spiralled far beyond party lines. It’s less about scandal for its own sake and more about the fragility of political trust, and how quickly reputations can unravel in the glare of public scrutiny.

The American Revolution: The Times That Try Men’s Souls – BBC Four, 10.00pm

The early days of the American struggle for independence were defined by uncertainty, exhaustion and a sense that the whole enterprise might collapse before it began. This episode captures that precariousness — the cold winters, the wavering morale, the sheer improbability of the cause. A sober, well‑drawn reminder that revolutions are rarely born in triumph; they begin in doubt.

The American Revolution: Conquered by a Drawn Game – BBC Four, 11.00pm

The conflict enters a phase where victory becomes less about winning battles and more about simply enduring them. This chapter explores the strategic stalemates and the psychological toll of a war that refused to resolve itself neatly. Survival becomes its own kind of triumph, and the series shows how persistence — rather than glory — ultimately shaped the nation’s fate.

Science Fiction: Atomic Age – Sky Arts, 11.00pm

Margaret Atwood and a roster of sharp minds explore how science fiction absorbed and refracted the anxieties of the Cold War. Mutants, invasions, dystopias — all the familiar tropes take on new resonance when seen as expressions of nuclear fear and geopolitical tension. A thoughtful, engaging hour that treats sci‑fi not as escapism but as a cultural seismograph.

The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946) – Talking Pictures TV, 1.35pm

A richly tangled film noir steeped in secrets, ambition and the corrosive power of old sins. Barbara Stanwyck is magnetic as the woman at the centre of a web she helped spin, and the film’s atmosphere — all shadows, guilt and brittle glamour — is irresistible. A classic that still cuts deep.

The War of the Worlds (1953) – Legend, 3.00pm

The definitive screen telling of H.G. Wells’ alien invasion tale. Even now, the film’s blend of Cold War paranoia, religious awe and apocalyptic spectacle feels potent. The Martian machines remain iconic, and the sense of civilisation teetering on the brink is handled with a seriousness that later adaptations sometimes sidestep. A cornerstone of sci‑fi cinema.

Live Now Pay Later (1962) – Talking Pictures TV, 4.05pm

A sharp, surprisingly modern satire about consumerism and the seductive pull of easy credit. The film skewers the salesman culture of the era, but its observations about debt, desire and the illusion of prosperity feel eerily current. A sly, clever gem that deserves more attention.

Escape from New York (1981) – Legend, 11.30pm

John Carpenter’s dystopian classic remains a masterclass in world‑building: grimy, anarchic, and pulsing with attitude. Kurt Russell’s Snake Plissken is the ultimate anti‑hero — laconic, cynical, and somehow still magnetic. The film’s vision of a decaying America sealed inside its own violence feels both fantastical and uncomfortably prophetic.

Sound of Metal (2019) – BBC Two, 12.05am

An extraordinary, deeply humane film about hearing loss, identity and the painful work of acceptance. Riz Ahmed delivers a career‑defining performance as a drummer whose world collapses and reshapes itself in ways he never expected. The sound design is astonishing, pulling the viewer into his shifting sensory reality. A quiet masterpiece about learning to live differently.

Wednesday 24th June

Peter Flannery Remembers Our Friends in the North – BBC Four, 10.00pm

A quiet, reflective half‑hour in which Peter Flannery looks back at the making of one of British television’s towering achievements. What emerges isn’t just nostalgia but a sense of how rare it is for a drama to capture the sweep of political, social and personal change with such clarity. Flannery speaks with the calm authority of someone who knows he created something that will outlast all of us.

Our Friends in the North – BBC Four, 10.15pm, 11.25pm and 12.30am

The 1964, 1966 and 1967 episodes return — early chapters in a saga that still feels astonishingly relevant. Watching them now, you’re struck by how confidently the series moves between the intimate and the epic: friendships tested by ambition, politics reshaping lives, history pressing in on ordinary people. It remains one of the great British dramas, not because it tries to be important, but because it understands how people are shaped by the times they live through.

How Green Was My Valley (1941) – Film4, 1.30pm

John Ford’s elegy to a Welsh mining community is as moving now as it was eight decades ago. The film’s power lies in its tenderness — the way it honours working‑class life without romanticising the hardship that defined it. Memory, loss and belonging run through every frame, and Ford’s eye for human dignity remains unmatched. A classic that earns its sentiment.

Bad Lieutenant (1992) – Legend, 1.35am

This version of *Bad Lieutenant* is one of my favourite films — and it’s easy to explain why. Abel Ferrara strips the crime drama down to something raw, feverish and spiritually bruised. Harvey Keitel gives a performance that feels almost too intimate for the screen: a man collapsing under the weight of his own corruption, staggering through addiction, rage and self‑loathing until he reaches a moment of grace that is as shocking as anything that precedes it.

What makes the film extraordinary is its refusal to tidy up human behaviour. It’s messy, anguished, confrontational — but also deeply compassionate. Ferrara understands that redemption, when it comes, is rarely clean or comfortable. The film stares directly at human ruin and still finds something worth salvaging. That’s why it lingers, and why it remains one of the most powerful pieces of American cinema of the 1990s.

Thursday 25th June

Boy George and Culture Club – Sky Arts, 9.00pm

A look back at one of the defining acts of the 1980s.

Rick Mayall: Magnificent Bastard – Sky Documentaries, 9.00pm

A full‑blooded tribute to a performer who didn’t just change British comedy — he detonated it. Rick Mayall was a force of nature: all manic energy, wicked intelligence and that unmistakable glint that told you he was about to push a scene somewhere dangerous, hilarious, or both. The documentary captures that volatility beautifully. You’re reminded how he could dominate a frame simply by entering it, how his presence made even seasoned actors brace themselves for impact.

What comes through most strongly is the sheer joy of him — the way he treated comedy as a contact sport, hurling himself into performances with a physicality that felt both reckless and precise. Whether it was the punk chaos of The Young Ones, the grotesque brilliance of Bottom, or the sly, weaponised charm he brought to everything else, Mayall operated on a frequency entirely his own.

But the programme also honours the man behind the mayhem: the generosity, the loyalty, the fierce work ethic. Colleagues speak about him with a mixture of awe and affection, aware that they were in the orbit of someone genuinely irreplaceable.

It’s a reminder that Mayall didn’t just make people laugh — he expanded the possibilities of what British comedy could be. A magnificent bastard, yes, but also a once‑in‑a‑generation talent whose influence still ripples through everything that came after.

Mel Brooks and Me – BBC Four, 11.25pm

Alan Yentob sits down with a comedy titan whose career spans continents, genres and several eras of American entertainment. Brooks is funny even when he’s not trying to be, but what makes this profile compelling is the sense of a man who has always understood the mechanics of laughter — how to build it, how to weaponise it, and how to survive by it. A warm, generous portrait.

Imagine: Mel Brooks Unwrapped – BBC Four, 11.35pm

A companion piece that digs deeper into Brooks’ extraordinary career, from the Borscht Belt to Broadway to Hollywood. There’s mischief, of course — Brooks can’t help himself — but also a surprising amount of reflection. You’re reminded that behind the chaos of *The Producers* and *Blazing Saddles* lies a meticulous craftsman who shaped modern comedy more than almost anyone else.

Little Big Man (1970) – 5 Action, 1.20pm

Arthur Penn’s revisionist western dismantles the myths of the American frontier with wit, melancholy and a sharp political edge. Dustin Hoffman plays the 121‑year‑old Jack Crabb recounting a life lived at the margins of history, and the film uses his tall tales to expose the violence and hypocrisy beneath the old cowboy legends. Funny, tragic and quietly radical.

All the King’s Men (1949) – Film4, 2.45pm

A powerful, still‑resonant study of political corruption and the seductive pull of populism. Broderick Crawford is mesmerising as Willie Stark, a man who begins with righteous fury and ends consumed by the very forces he once railed against. The film’s moral clarity — and its understanding of how power corrodes — feels as sharp today as it did in 1949.

Friday 26th June

What Happened at the Somme – BBC One, 7.30pm

Whenever a programme turns its attention to the First World War, I find myself watching through the lens of my own visits to the Somme — trips taken over many years with my good friend, mentor and historian Alan Midgley, who is sadly no longer with us. Alan had that rare gift of bringing history alive without ever sensationalising it. Walking those fields with him — the wind moving through the grass, the silence settling over ground that once shook with unimaginable violence — changed the way I understand the war. It stopped being “history” and became something intimate, human, and painfully present.

One image in particular has stayed with me: the German First World War Jewish graves at Falaise cemetery. Perfectly tended, modest, marked with the Star of David. Standing there, Alan quietly explaining the regiments and the dates, I felt the weight of something far larger than the war itself. These were young men who fought and died for a country that, within a generation, would declare them outsiders, strip them of citizenship, and ultimately murder their families.

Their sacrifice — loyal, patriotic, and no different from that of their Christian comrades — counted for nothing in the eyes of the regime that followed. That is the tragedy carved into those stones. They died believing they were part of the German nation; history repaid them with betrayal.

It is impossible to stand in that cemetery and not feel the moral dissonance of it all: the neat rows, the dignity of the inscriptions, the quiet respect of the place — and the knowledge that the country they served would later deny their very right to belong. It is one of the most haunting lessons the Western Front offers: that memory is fragile, and that the meaning of sacrifice can be rewritten by those who come after.

So when I watch any documentary about the Great War — its battles, its politics, its human cost — I do so with those visits in mind. The Somme is not just a battlefield; it is a landscape of ghosts. And thanks to Alan, I learned to see it not as a place of death, but as a place of enduring remembrance — a reminder of how easily nations forget the people who fought for them, and how important it is that we do not.

Independence Storm – PBS America, 7.55pm

A clear‑eyed historical documentary tracing the turbulent path toward national independence. Rather than offering a tidy narrative, it leans into the complexity — the competing visions, the fractures within movements, and the sheer human cost of political transformation. It’s a reminder that independence is rarely a single moment of triumph, but a long, contested process shaped by sacrifice, compromise and the stubborn will of ordinary people.

My Tiger Family – BBC Two, 9.00pm

An intimate, beautifully shot wildlife documentary that follows a family of tigers with a patience and tenderness that feels almost novelistic. The filmmakers give the animals space to be themselves — wary, playful, fierce, vulnerable — and the result is a portrait of family life that feels surprisingly relatable. The jungle becomes a character in its own right, a place of danger and sanctuary in equal measure. Quietly captivating.

Flood: When the Thames Drowned London – Channel 5, 9.00pm

A gripping reconstruction of one of London’s greatest natural disasters, charting how a combination of weather, tide and human miscalculation brought the capital to the brink. The programme blends eyewitness accounts, archival material and expert analysis to show how fragile a city can be when nature decides to test it. It’s sobering, but also oddly reassuring — a reminder of how much has been learned, and how much still depends on vigilance.

Madonna and Graham – BBC One, 10.40pm

Madonna joins Graham Norton for what promises to be a lively, revealing conversation. She remains one of pop’s most enduring provocateurs — sharp, funny, and entirely unwilling to play the role expected of her. Norton, with his mix of mischief and empathy, is one of the few interviewers capable of drawing out both the armour and the person beneath it. Expect candour, humour and at least one moment that will be replayed endlessly online.

True Grit (1969) – 5 Action, 1.25pm

The film that finally won John Wayne his Oscar, and with good reason. As Rooster Cogburn, Wayne delivers a performance that balances gruffness with surprising warmth, playing a man whose rough exterior hides a stubborn moral core. The film itself is a classic frontier tale — dusty, funny, and shot through with a melancholy that deepens with age. A western that earns its place in the canon.

Psycho (1960) – BBC Two, 11.00pm

Hitchcock’s masterpiece remains one of the most influential thrillers ever made — a film that rewrote the rules of suspense, narrative and audience expectation. Even now, its shocks still land, not because of gore but because of the director’s absolute command of tension and misdirection. Bernard Herrmann’s score, the stark black‑and‑white photography, the audacity of the plot — it all adds up to a film that feels both timeless and perpetually unsettling. A landmark of modern cinema.

Dark Waters (2019) – BBC Two, 12.45am

A quietly devastating film that takes a familiar American story — corporate malfeasance on an industrial scale — and strips it of sensationalism until all that remains is the slow, grinding horror of the truth. Todd Haynes directs with a kind of moral stillness, letting the facts speak for themselves, and the result is a drama that feels less like a thriller and more like a reckoning.

Mark Ruffalo gives one of his finest performances as Rob Bilott, the corporate defence lawyer who finds himself on the wrong side of the table when a West Virginia farmer brings him evidence of something deeply wrong. What begins as a favour becomes a decades‑long battle against DuPont, a company whose chemical pollution poisoned a community, contaminated the water supply, and quietly entered the bloodstream of almost every living person on the planet.

The film’s power lies in its refusal to exaggerate. There are no grand speeches, no courtroom fireworks, no Hollywood catharsis. Instead, Haynes shows the toll of persistence: the long nights, the fraying relationships, the professional isolation, the sense of pushing against a machine designed to exhaust anyone who challenges it. Bilott’s heroism is not glamorous — it is patient, stubborn, and quietly self‑sacrificial.

What makes Dark Waters so unsettling is the scale of the harm. The chemicals at the centre of the case — PFOA, used in Teflon — were never meant to leave the lab, yet they ended up everywhere: in rivers, in soil, in animals, in human blood. The film makes clear that this wasn’t an accident but a choice, a corporate calculation that the cost of cleaning up would be greater than the cost of letting people suffer.

Haynes shoots the story in muted tones, as if the world itself has been leached of colour by the contamination. It’s a visual metaphor for a system where accountability is always deferred, and where the truth emerges only because one man refuses to stop digging.

By the time the credits roll, the devastation is not loud but cumulative — a sense of how fragile public trust is, and how easily it can be poisoned when profit becomes the only measure of value. Dark Waters is a film that lingers, not because it shocks, but because it tells the truth plainly and lets the implications settle in your bones.

Streaming Choice

The Root of the Game (Netflix) – A rich, three‑part exploration of Brazil’s relationship with football — not as a pastime, but as a national language. The series understands that Brazilian football is inseparable from the country’s history, politics and social tensions. It moves from the street pitches of Rio to the vast modern arenas, tracing how the game became a vehicle for identity, resistance and joy.
What’s most striking is the emotional range: football as escape, as aspiration, as a mirror of inequality, and as a kind of collective poetry. The documentary captures the swagger and sorrow of a nation that sees itself reflected in the way it plays.

Avatar: Fire and Ash (Disney+) – James Cameron continues his ecological epic with a chapter that deepens the mythology of Pandora while pushing the emotional stakes higher. The film blends astonishing visual spectacle with a story rooted in family, displacement and the cost of survival.
Cameron remains one of the few filmmakers who can make digital worlds feel tactile and lived‑in. The action sequences have a clarity and physicality that most blockbusters can only dream of, but the real power lies in the quieter moments — the bonds between characters, the rituals of Na’vi life, the sense of a world fighting to protect itself.
It’s grand, earnest, and made with a sincerity that feels increasingly rare.

The Agency – Season 2 (Paramount+) – One of television’s smartest espionage dramas returns with a second season that doubles down on moral ambiguity and psychological tension. The series treats intelligence work not as glamour but as a slow erosion of certainty — a world where loyalty is provisional, truth is negotiable, and every decision carries a cost.
The writing is taut, the performances tightly wound, and the plotting intricate without ever becoming opaque. It’s a rare spy drama that trusts the audience to keep up, and rewards them for doing so.

I Am Frank Ordell (Netflix) – An animated fantasy adventure with a streak of eccentricity that sets it apart from the usual streaming offerings. Frank Ordell is an unlikely hero drawn into a world of magic, mischief and moral dilemmas, and the film balances humour with a surprisingly thoughtful emotional core.The animation is vibrant without being frantic, and the storytelling has that gentle, slightly off‑centre charm that appeals to adults as much as children. A small, distinctive delight.

Richard Jewell (Netflix) – Clint Eastwood’s quietly furious examination of media hysteria and institutional failure. The film recounts the true story of Richard Jewell, the security guard who discovered a bomb at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics — and was then wrongly accused of planting it. Paul Walter Hauser gives a remarkable, deeply humane performance as a man bewildered by the speed with which public admiration turned into suspicion. Eastwood directs with restraint, letting the injustice speak for itself.
The film’s critique of press frenzy and FBI overreach feels depressingly timeless.

The American Experiment (Netflix) – A sweeping documentary series that examines how American identity has been constructed, contested and continually reinvented. Rather than offering a single thesis, it embraces contradiction: the tension between idealism and inequality, unity and division, myth and reality.
It moves through history, culture, politics and personal testimony, showing how the idea of America has always been a negotiation rather than a fixed point. Thoughtful, ambitious and refreshingly nuanced.

Boiling Point (Channel 4 Streaming) – f you haven’t seen it yet, now is the moment. Boiling Point is one of the most gripping British dramas of recent years — a single‑take pressure cooker set in a restaurant kitchen on the brink of collapse. Stephen Graham is superb as a chef barely holding his life together, and the film captures the chaos, camaraderie and emotional volatility of service with unnerving authenticity. It’s tense, humane and utterly absorbing. Catch it before it disappears.

Volver (BFI Player) – Pedro Almodóvar’s warm, funny and deeply humane masterpiece — a film that blends melodrama, mystery and domestic comedy with the director’s trademark generosity of spirit. Penélope Cruz gives one of her finest performances as a woman navigating family secrets, grief and unexpected reinvention. The film is a celebration of female resilience, community and the strange ways the past refuses to stay buried. Rich, colourful and emotionally resonant, Volver is Almodóvar at his most accessible and most profound.

Radio Choice

Midsummer Dreaming – Radio 3, Saturday 9.30pm

A gently enchanting programme that treats midsummer not as a date in the calendar but as a state of mind — a moment when the year seems to pause, the light stretches impossibly long, and the world feels briefly suspended between the ordinary and the magical. Midsummer Dreaming weaves together music, poetry and quiet reflection to evoke that sense of threshold: the lingering glow of evening, the hum of the natural world, the feeling that something ancient is stirring just beyond the edge of perception.

Radio 3 excels at this kind of mood‑building, and the programme draws on a wide palette — from folk traditions and choral works to contemporary compositions that capture the shimmer and stillness of the season. The selections aren’t just pretty; they’re evocative, tapping into the deep cultural roots of midsummer as a time of ritual, celebration and gentle mischief.

Interwoven with the music are reflections that give the hour its emotional weight. There’s a sense of looking both forward and back: midsummer as a moment of abundance, but also a reminder that the light will soon begin to recede. The programme understands that this is what gives the season its poignancy — the beauty is heightened because it is fleeting.

It’s the kind of broadcast that invites you to slow down, step outside for a moment, and listen to the world breathing. A perfect midsummer companion: thoughtful, atmospheric and quietly restorative.

Archive on 4: The Art of Listening – Radio 4, Saturday 8.00pm

An exploration of what it truly means to listen.

10 Years After Brexit – Radio 4, Sunday 1.30pm

A decade on from Britain’s departure from the European Union, this programme takes a measured, quietly probing look at what has — and hasn’t — changed. Rather than reheating the old arguments, it focuses on lived experience: how Brexit has reshaped work, identity, borders, and the country’s sense of itself.
Economists, historians and ordinary citizens offer perspectives that are sometimes contradictory, sometimes unexpectedly aligned, but always grounded in the reality of a nation still negotiating the consequences of its choice.
What emerges is not a verdict but a portrait of a country in transition — one still trying to understand what sovereignty means in practice, and what kind of future it wants to build.
As with all political retrospectives, listeners should confirm details with trusted sources.

Being Greek – Radio 4, Tuesday 9.00am

A thoughtful examination of identity, heritage and belonging.

Podcast Choice

Artifacts

A compelling series that digs into the emotional history of the internet — not the technology, but the traces we leave behind. Each episode takes a digital “artifact” (a message board post, a meme, a long‑forgotten website, a viral moment) and uses it as a doorway into the ways online life has shaped memory, relationships and self‑expression.
What makes it special is its tone: empathetic, curious, and alert to the fact that the internet is not just infrastructure but a vast archive of human longing, creativity and embarrassment.
It’s a reminder that digital culture isn’t ephemeral at all — it’s where many of our most intimate stories now live.

Endgame

A thoughtful, often unsettling exploration of one of the defining questions of our age: can humanity live alongside Artificial General Intelligence? Rather than indulging in sci‑fi panic or techno‑utopian cheerleading, the podcast takes a sober, interdisciplinary approach — speaking to philosophers, engineers, ethicists and psychologists about what AGI might mean for work, autonomy, creativity and the very idea of being human. The strength of the series lies in its refusal to simplify. It acknowledges both the extraordinary potential and the profound risks, and it treats listeners as adults capable of holding both ideas at once. A gripping, intellectually serious listen that feels urgently relevant.

The Rest Is Politics – Who Funds Reform?

An examination of political funding, influence and the forces behind one of Britain’s most talked-about political movements.

This week’s Culture Vulture ranges from the Welsh valleys of 1941 to the future of artificial intelligence, from Bond and Hitchcock to Evonne Goolagong and Nelson Mandela. The strongest thread running through it all is the question of how individuals and societies tell their stories. Whether through film, television, radio or podcasts, the past is constantly being revisited, challenged and reinterpreted. That makes this one of the most thoughtful and rewarding cultural weeks of the year so far.

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Culture Vulture 30th May – 5th June 2026

A large vulture soaring in the sky with mountains in the background, accompanied by bold text reading 'CULTURE VULTURE' and a banner for 'COUNTER CULTURE' event from 30th May to 5th June 2026.

From Tudor intrigue and American paranoia to Bowie beneath the floodlights and Aretha reclaiming the airwaves, this week’s Culture Vulture ranges widely across cinema, television and sound. There is something quietly defiant about these selections. History refuses to stay buried, old scandals echo into the present and entertainment itself becomes a way of understanding power, identity and memory. Whether it is Gordon Banks and football folklore, Muhammad Ali refusing to fit into easy categories or Russell T Davies returning to themes of love and belonging, the week rewards curiosity.

Three selections stand out. 🌟 The Lion in Winter remains one of the sharpest battles of wills ever committed to film, a royal family drama that could have been written yesterday. 🌟 Shergar: The Racehorse and the IRA revisits one of Ireland’s great unsolved mysteries where sport, politics and organised violence intersect. And 🌟 Dear England arrives as a reminder that football stories are rarely just about football at all, but about national identity, expectation and the fragile business of collective belief.

Culture Vulture, as ever, offers an alternative route through the schedules.

Saturday 30th May 2026

🌟 Shergar: The Racehorse and the IRA
Channel 4, 8.00pm
Catch up via Channel 4 streaming

The disappearance of Shergar remains one of those stories that feels suspended between crime thriller and national myth. The Derby winner who seemed destined for sporting immortality vanished in 1983 and was never recovered, leaving behind rumour, accusation and unanswered questions. Channel 4 revisits the case through the complicated intersection of horse racing, Irish politics and the shadow world of paramilitary activity.

What gives the story its grip is that Shergar was more than a horse. He represented prestige, money and status, and his disappearance carried emotional resonance well beyond racing circles. Even now the case provokes disagreement over motive, culpability and what may have happened during those lost days.

Good documentaries know when mystery matters more than neat resolution. This looks set to recognise that uncertainty is often part of the story itself.

The Count of Monte Cristo (2002)
5Star, 6.20pm

Revenge dramas live or die on the audience believing not merely in injustice but in the wounded intelligence of the person seeking redress. Kevin Reynolds’ adaptation of Alexandre Dumas understands this instinctively. Jim Caviezel’s Edmond Dantès begins as an ordinary sailor betrayed by jealousy and greed, only to emerge from imprisonment transformed into a calculating avenger.

The story remains irresistible because its pleasures are both emotional and theatrical. Dantès does not simply seek revenge; he curates it. His enemies are dismantled piece by piece, and the audience enjoys the spectacle even while sensing the moral cost.

Guy Pearce makes an especially effective Mondego, his treachery rooted not in grand villainy but insecurity and entitlement. Pearce understands that envy often wears the face of friendship before revealing its sharper edges.

The film compresses and simplifies Dumas, sometimes drastically, yet retains the novel’s central heartbeat — the fantasy that intelligence and patience might defeat privilege and corruption.

There is also something enduringly appealing about its romantic sweep. Modern cinema can sometimes be nervous about emotional sincerity, but Monte Cristo embraces melodrama with confidence and charm.

A handsome, entertaining adventure that still carries enough darkness beneath the swordplay to linger.

Ghost Trail (2024)
BBC Four, 9.05pm

Jonathan Millet’s Ghost Trail plays less like a thriller and more like a man trying to walk through the wreckage of his own mind. The Syrian war sits in the background like a bruise that never quite fades, and the film follows a lone figure moving across Europe in pursuit of a man he believes once held the power to destroy him.

What gives the film its quiet force is the way it refuses to turn suffering into a set‑piece. Trauma isn’t staged or stylised; it’s carried. You see it in the way the protagonist holds himself, in the pauses before he speaks, in the way memory seems to press down on him like weight rather than narrative.

Millet keeps the pacing spare, almost ascetic. Scenes breathe. Silences stretch. The tension comes not from the machinery of genre but from the unease of not knowing what justice might look like, or whether it’s even possible after so much damage. Suspicion becomes a kind of weather system the characters move through.

It sits comfortably in that European tradition where filmmakers trust the audience to live with ambiguity. No explanatory flashbacks, no moral signposts, no tidy catharsis — just the slow, unsettling drift of a man trying to decide what he owes to the past and what he can still salvage from the future.

A reminder, stark and unadorned, that crossing a border doesn’t mean leaving a war behind.

David Bowie: Serious Moonlight
Sky Arts, 9.00pm

As a lifelong Bowie obsessive, I always return to 1983 with a kind of fascinated ambivalence. This was the moment when the great shape‑shifter — the man who’d spent a decade outrunning categories — suddenly became a global pop phenomenon. Serious Moonlight captures him right at that pivot point, balancing mass adoration with the cool intelligence that made him Bowie in the first place.

The setlist is almost indecently rich: Heroes, Fashion, Space Oddity, Young Americans, Life on Mars?, and the irresistible, sun‑lit swagger of Let’s Dance. But what holds the attention isn’t just the songs — it’s the way he moves through them. There’s that familiar Bowie duality: fully present yet somehow hovering above the moment, performer and anthropologist of his own fame.

Concert films often wilt as decades pass, victims of their own hairstyles and shoulder pads. Bowie, though, rarely dates. He seems to exist slightly outside the calendar, as if time bends a little to accommodate him. Even here, in his most commercially accessible era, he’s still playing with persona, still testing the edges of what a pop star can be.

A reminder, for those of us who’ve followed him through every incarnation, that even at his most mainstream he never stopped being singular.

Playboy: Secrets of the Centrefolds
12.35am

The Playboy empire remains one of the twentieth century’s strangest cultural contradictions — marketed as liberation while frequently entangled in exploitation and image-making. This documentary strand explores the experiences behind the mythology.

The Great Fire: London Burns
PBS America, 7.35pm
The Great Fire: Death and Destruction
PBS America, 8.35pm
The Great Fire: A City Rebuilt
PBS America, 9.35pm

This three-part examination of the Great Fire promises not simply disaster reconstruction but social history. Fires reveal inequalities as much as architecture, and London’s catastrophe of 1666 reshaped the city physically and psychologically.

Sunday 31st May 2026

🌟 Dear England
BBC One, 9.00pm
Episode 3 of 4 – All episodes on iPlayer

Football dramas often stumble by mistaking fandom for storytelling. James Graham’s Dear England avoids that trap by recognising that Gareth Southgate’s England represented something larger than tournament results.

The drama explores pressure, vulnerability and the attempt to rebuild a national sporting culture too often trapped by fear and nostalgia.

Even viewers indifferent to football may find themselves unexpectedly drawn in.

The Book of Life (2014)
BBC One, 10.00am

Animated cinema occasionally dares to look genuinely distinctive. Jorge Gutierrez’s The Book of Life does precisely that, drawing on Mexican folklore and Day of the Dead traditions with vivid imagination.

Rather than chasing generic fantasy, the film embraces cultural specificity, giving it warmth and personality.

There is romance, humour and adventure, but also reflection on family expectation and memory.

The visual design alone deserves admiration.

A colourful and heartfelt alternative to formula animation.

Genevieve (1953)
Talking Pictures TV, 1.00pm

There’s a particular strain of British comedy that thrives on mild disorder — not slapstick, not farce exactly, but the gentle unravelling of people who think they’re far more dignified than they are. Genevieve remains one of the loveliest examples. Built around the London–Brighton veteran car run, it turns a simple motoring jaunt into a quietly escalating contest of pride and wounded male ego.

Kenneth More and John Gregson spark off each other with an ease that feels almost accidental. The humour doesn’t come from contrived set‑pieces but from personality: two men who can’t quite admit how much they care about winning, or how ridiculous that makes them look.

Yes, there’s nostalgia — the soft glow of post‑war Britain, the charm of old engines and older manners — but there’s also a slyness to it. A knowing look at masculinity, rivalry, and the middle‑class urge to turn everything into a test of character.

A small, bright pleasure of a film, and very British in the best sense.

The Searchers (1956)
BBC Two, 3.30pm

The Searchers is one of those films that refuses to settle neatly into the heroic myth of the American West. John Ford gives you the sweeping vistas, yes — those vast, indifferent landscapes that seem to swallow people whole — but the emotional terrain is far more jagged. And at the centre stands John Wayne’s Ethan Edwards, a figure who is both magnetic and deeply troubling.

Wayne plays him with a hard, unyielding intensity. He’s a man driven by purpose, but the purpose curdles. What begins as a rescue mission slowly reveals itself as something darker: obsession, prejudice, a worldview so rigid it threatens to break everyone around him. Ford never softens it, never reassures the audience with easy moral signposting.

The Monument Valley backdrops are majestic, almost mythic, yet the story they frame is anything but comforting. The film keeps circling the same uneasy question: what happens when the man riding out to save the day is also the one carrying the deepest poison?

Few westerns have the courage to look that squarely at hatred, or to acknowledge how violence can twist a person long after the shooting stops. And the older the film gets, the more unsettling it becomes — as if time only sharpens its edges.

A classic, yes, but one that sta.

Top Hat (1935)
BBC Four, 7.15pm

Pure elegance from Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Depression-era escapism at its most graceful.

The Manchurian Candidate (1962)
Sky Arts, 9.00pm

Few films capture the texture of political paranoia as cleanly as The Manchurian Candidate. Even now, its Cold War anxieties feel uncomfortably close to home. Frank Sinatra gives one of his sharpest performances, playing a man circling a truth he can barely articulate, let alone face.

What makes the film endure isn’t just its thriller mechanics but its sense of psychological intrusion — the idea that the real danger isn’t out on the battlefield but inside the mind, quietly rewired. The satire is razor‑edged, the mood icy, and the implications still sting.

A reminder that conspiracy, manipulation and manufactured certainty are not relics of another era but recurring features of political life.

The Nice Guys (2016)
BBC One, 10.30pm

Shane Black’s scruffy detective comedy pairs Russell Crowe and Ryan Gosling to glorious effect.

The Blues Brothers (1980)
BBC Two, 10.45pm

Some films strain for cool; The Blues Brothers simply assumes it. Part musical, part anarchic road movie, it barrels forward with the confidence of two men who believe — quite sincerely — that God wants them to save an orphanage and that the best way to do it is by assembling the greatest rhythm‑and‑blues band in Illinois.

What keeps it irresistible is the film’s total commitment to its own glorious absurdity. Car chases that defy physics, musical numbers that erupt without warning, and a parade of legends — Aretha Franklin, Ray Charles, James Brown — who treat the chaos as perfectly normal.

It shouldn’t work. It absolutely does. A hymn to deadpan mayhem and the healing power of a good horn section.

South Bank at 75: You Are Here
BBC Two, 10.00pm
Catch up via iPlayer

A celebration of one of Britain’s great cultural institutions and the conversations that have shaped it.

Monday 1st June 2026

🌟 Tiptoe
Channel 4, 9.00pm
Episodes 1 and 2 – also available via Channel 4 streaming

Russell T Davies has spent much of his career exploring the spaces where private lives and public attitudes collide. From Queer as Folk to It’s A Sin, he has shown a gift for mixing wit, emotion and social observation without reducing characters to arguments. Tiptoe arrives carrying inevitable expectation.

The drama promises to examine relationships and identity with Davies’ familiar combination of warmth and confrontation. His scripts rarely avoid discomfort, but they also recognise humour and tenderness as survival mechanisms.

That matters because television drama can sometimes become strangely bloodless when attempting seriousness, mistaking solemnity for emotional truth. Davies understands that life rarely behaves so tidily.

The shadow of Queer as Folk inevitably hangs nearby, particularly with Channel 4 making his breakthrough series newly available again. Yet revisiting Queer as Folk is a reminder not only of how provocative it once felt, but how playful and alive it remains.

Television has changed enormously since 1999. So too has the political and cultural atmosphere surrounding sexuality and belonging. Tiptoe enters that conversation at a moment when questions of identity again dominate public debate.

Whether it becomes essential television remains to be seen, but Davies rarely lacks ambition and almost never lacks something worth saying.

Monolith (2022)
Film4, 9.00pm

Science fiction does not require giant budgets to generate unease. Monolith proves the point through admirable restraint. Much of the film unfolds through the voice and experience of a disgraced journalist investigating strange reports connected to mysterious black bricks.

The set-up sounds eccentric and, admittedly, it is. Yet the film cleverly uses isolation and ambiguity to create atmosphere.

There is something distinctly contemporary about its concern with information, credibility and digital storytelling. The protagonist lives in a world where truth competes with rumour and attention itself becomes currency.

The limited setting works to the film’s advantage. Rather than feeling constrained, the story develops an almost claustrophobic intimacy.

Genre cinema sometimes benefits from knowing exactly what not to explain.

A quietly unnerving piece of speculative storytelling.

🌟 Dear England
BBC One, 9.00pm
Episode 4 of 4

James Graham’s drama reaches its conclusion with Gareth Southgate and England confronting the pressures that accompany modern football. Yet the appeal of Dear England lies not in match results but emotional architecture.

Southgate emerges less as sporting saviour than reluctant national therapist, trying to reshape attitudes inherited through decades of disappointment and defensive masculinity.

Football occupies an unusual place within British life — simultaneously entertainment, identity and emotional shorthand. Graham’s drama understands this instinctively.

By exploring vulnerability alongside competition, the series offers something richer than simple sporting biography.

Even those who know the outcomes may find themselves invested in the emotional journey.

Ancient Greece: The Dark Chronicles
Begins Monday – Part 1 of 5

Civilisation documentaries sometimes present antiquity as settled fact, all marble certainty and textbook chronology. The attraction of this new series lies in its promise to examine the more shadowy and uncertain origins of Ancient Greece.

The “dark” in Dark Ages history often refers not to barbarism but gaps in evidence — periods where archaeology and scholarship must work harder to reconstruct vanished worlds.

That uncertainty makes history exciting.

Leonora Carrington: The Lost Surrealist
BBC Four, 10.50pm

Carrington remains one of surrealism’s most fascinating and frequently overlooked figures. Artist, novelist and myth-maker, she moved through twentieth-century upheaval refusing easy categorisation.

Documentaries about artists often reduce creative lives to chronology. Carrington deserves something stranger and more adventurous.

BBC Four generally understands this territory well.

King Rat (1965)
Talking Pictures TV, 1.45am

Bryan Forbes’ adaptation of James Clavell’s novel turns the prison camp drama into something morally slippery and psychologically revealing.

George Segal’s opportunistic anti-hero survives through barter and manipulation, exposing how systems of deprivation reshape ethics.

The film avoids patriotic simplification and instead studies power in miniature.

Uncomfortable and intelligent.

Tuesday 2nd June 2026

Belle (2013)
Film4, 6.45pm

Amma Asante’s Belle begins with historical curiosity and develops into something more resonant — a period drama attentive not only to romance and costume but race, inheritance and social status.

Inspired by the life of Dido Elizabeth Belle, the film explores eighteenth-century Britain through a perspective too rarely granted centre stage.

Gugu Mbatha-Raw brings intelligence and emotional nuance to the role.

The film recognises that privilege and exclusion often coexist in uneasy proximity.

Beautifully staged and quietly political.

Carlito’s Way (1993)
Legend, 9.00pm

Brian De Palma’s crime drama deserves discussion alongside the director’s better-known gangster films. Al Pacino plays Carlito Brigante, recently released from prison and desperate to escape criminal life.

What makes the film moving is that Carlito genuinely wants redemption.

Pacino gives a performance filled with melancholy and self-awareness, while Sean Penn delivers one of cinema’s great performances as crooked lawyer Dave Kleinfeld.

The tension comes not from whether violence exists, but whether history can be escaped.

De Palma stages suspense with characteristic elegance.

A tragic gangster picture about fate, loyalty and the impossibility of outrunning reputation.

Artsnight: A Tribute to Carla Lane
BBC Four, 8.00pm
Catch up via iPlayer

Carla Lane possessed a rare ability to write comedy grounded in recognisable human frustration. From The Liver Birds to Bread, her work balanced humour with social observation and emotional truth.

This tribute revisits a writer who understood ordinary lives without patronising them.

Muhammad Ali
BBC Four, 10.00pm

Ken Burns’ portrait of Muhammad Ali remains one of the most complete attempts to understand a man who refused to be contained by any single role. Boxer, activist, showman, dissenter — Ali kept shifting shape, and the documentary’s strength lies in acknowledging that complexity rather than sanding it down.

Burns doesn’t chase a tidy narrative. Instead, he sits with the contradictions: the bravado and the vulnerability, the political courage and the personal cost, the way Ali could be both a unifying symbol and a divisive presence. It’s a study of a man who changed sport and then stepped beyond it, becoming a figure onto whom entire eras projected their anxieties and hopes.

This conveys the sense of a life lived at full voltage — principled, provocative, and never less than compelling. Ali didn’t just transcend boxing; he rewrote the terms on which an athlete could exist in public.

Wednesday 3rd June 2026

The Future with Hannah Fry
BBC Two, 7.30pm
Full series available via iPlayer

Television science can sometimes drift towards the reassuringly spectacular — dazzling graphics, simplified certainties and declarations of imminent revolution. Hannah Fry tends to resist that temptation. Her strength lies in curiosity and clarity rather than grandstanding.

This edition turns to nuclear fusion, that tantalising scientific horizon forever described as both transformative and frustratingly distant. Fusion has occupied a strange place in public imagination for decades — part engineering challenge, part technological dream, forever hovering between promise and practical reality.

Fry is particularly good at translating complexity without patronising her audience. That matters because science is often treated as something delivered from on high rather than explored collectively.

Fusion, if realised, carries obvious implications for energy, economics and environmental policy, but the human drama behind scientific endeavour is equally compelling — persistence, rivalry, failure and breakthrough.

At its best, science television reminds us that knowledge itself is an adventure.

Penny Serenade (1941)
Talking Pictures TV, 9.10am

Hollywood melodrama has fallen out of fashion among critics wary of open emotion, yet Penny Serenade is a reminder of why audiences once embraced it so fiercely. There’s a sincerity to it — unguarded, unembarrassed — that feels almost radical now.

Irene Dunne and Cary Grant play a couple weathering love, disappointment and the fragile hope of parenthood. The story edges towards sentimentality, of course it does, but it earns its weight through the performances. Grant, so often remembered for his wit and immaculate poise, gives one of his most vulnerable turns here; the mask slips, and what’s underneath is raw and deeply human.

The film understands grief not as a grand collapse but as something that gathers quietly — a slow accumulation of moments, losses, compromises. It’s in the silences, the hesitations, the way two people try to keep moving forward even when the ground shifts beneath them.

Its emotional honesty lingers long after the final scene. A small reminder, delivered without apology, that sincerity still has its place.

Its emotional honesty lingers long after the closing scenes.

The Caine Mutiny (1954)
Film4, 12.45pm

Military dramas frequently present leadership as either noble certainty or outright villainy. The Caine Mutiny wisely prefers ambiguity.

Humphrey Bogart’s Captain Queeg remains one of cinema’s most fascinating authority figures — insecure, obsessive and gradually destabilised under pressure.

The film asks difficult questions about obedience and responsibility. Was mutiny justified, or did the crew simply lose faith too quickly? Such uncertainty keeps the drama alive.

Courtroom scenes crackle with tension and moral complexity. A superb study of hierarchy and doubt.

Corsage (2022)
Film4, 1.30am

Historical drama can become trapped inside museum glass, reverential and lifeless. Corsage refuses that fate.

Vicky Krieps plays Empress Elisabeth of Austria not as decorative icon but restless, intelligent and constrained woman resisting the suffocating rituals of imperial life.

The film deliberately unsettles expectations.

Modern flourishes and tonal dislocation prevent history becoming comfortable heritage.

Krieps delivers a remarkable performance full of wit, sadness and defiance.

The result feels unexpectedly contemporary.

A fascinating portrait of rebellion against image and expectation.

Bombshell (2019)
Film4, 11.40pm

The downfall of Roger Ailes and the sexual harassment scandal surrounding Fox News became one of the defining media stories of recent years. Bombshell dramatises those events with energy and star power.

Charlize Theron, Nicole Kidman and Margot Robbie anchor the film, though Theron’s transformation into Megyn Kelly remains particularly striking.

The film moves briskly, sometimes at the expense of deeper analysis, yet it captures something vital about institutional culture and the pressures surrounding power.

Media organisations often market themselves as truth-tellers while quietly reproducing their own internal silences.

That contradiction gives Bombshell its charge.

Sharp, unsettling and highly watchable.

Fire Island (2022)
Channel 4, 1.55am

Austen and queer comedy might sound like an unlikely pairing, but Fire Island makes the connection feel effortless. It lifts the bones of Pride and Prejudice and relocates them to the sun‑bleached chaos of the famous holiday enclave, where romantic misreadings and class anxieties play out with a distinctly modern charge.

The humour is bright, quick on its feet, and affectionate rather than arch. But beneath the jokes sits something more attentive: a clear‑eyed look at friendship, exclusion, and the quiet negotiations of belonging that shape queer spaces. The film never treats representation as homework. Instead, it lets its characters exist with warmth, contradiction and the kind of emotional looseness that feels lived‑in rather than symbolic.

Playful, clever, and unexpectedly touching — a reminder that reinvention can be both joyful and sincere.

Thursday 4th June 2026

🌟 The Lion in Winter (1968)
Sky Arts, 9.00pm

Some family gatherings end in awkward silences; Henry II’s Christmas court makes most domestic disputes look like a mild disagreement over the turkey. Anthony Harvey’s The Lion in Winter gathers a cast operating at full, almost operatic intensity, with Peter O’Toole’s combustible Henry squaring off against Katharine Hepburn’s Eleanor of Aquitaine — a woman who has turned wounded brilliance into a political art form.

James Goldman’s dialogue is a feast in itself: barbed, witty, and laced with the kind of intelligence that assumes the audience can keep up. Every exchange feels like a duel, every line a strategic move. Royal politics here aren’t about crowns and territories so much as psychological warfare — old grievances sharpened into weapons, love and resentment tangled beyond separation.

Hepburn is extraordinary: amused one moment, furious the next, always calculating, always alive to the shifting balance of power. She gives Eleanor a dangerous sparkle, a sense that she’s playing three games at once and winning at least two of them.

What the film understands — and what gives it its enduring bite — is that the great political struggles of history often begin at the dinner table, long before they spill into the chronicles. Power, after all, is a family business.

Timeless, literate, and gloriously savage.

Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased)
Rewind TV, 12 noon and 8.00pm
Catch up via Freeview Play

Few television premises sound quite as cheerfully eccentric as a detective aided by his dead partner. Yet Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) possesses the charm and imaginative confidence characteristic of late-1960s British television.

There is nostalgia here, certainly, but also invention.

Lion (2016)
Film4, 11.20pm

True stories often arrive already heavy with emotion, but Lion earns its power by refusing to push or manipulate. It trusts the story — and the audience — enough to let the feeling emerge naturally.

Dev Patel plays Saroo Brierley, a boy separated from his family in India and later adopted by an Australian couple. Patel gives the film its emotional spine, charting the long, uncertain journey between the life he remembers and the life he’s built. Nicole Kidman and David Wenham offer quietly affecting support, their performances grounded in the everyday tenderness and strain of parenting a child shaped by loss.

What the film captures so well is the complexity of identity: the pull of memory, the ache of belonging, the way home can be both a place and a longing. Modern technology — so often a narrative shortcut — becomes here a bridge, a way of stitching together two halves of a life without diminishing either.

The result is deeply moving without tipping into sentimentality. A film about home in its deepest sense: the one you come from, the one you make, and the one you spend years trying to find again.

Friday 5th June 2026

The Ballad of Lefty Brown (2017)
Great Action, 6.45pm

Revisionist westerns often examine the myth of heroism through damaged or overlooked figures. The Ballad of Lefty Brown does precisely that.

Bill Pullman gives an engaging performance as ageing sidekick Lefty, unexpectedly pushed into the foreground after violence overturns familiar loyalties.

The western landscape remains beautiful, though melancholy hangs over it.

A modest but rewarding genre piece.

🌟 Nope (2022)
Film4, 9.00pm

Jordan Peele has rapidly become one of modern cinema’s most intriguing filmmakers because he recognises horror as social language rather than simple fright mechanism.

Nope begins with spectacle and gradually becomes an inquiry into spectatorship itself — our hunger to witness, record and commodify the extraordinary.

Daniel Kaluuya and Keke Palmer provide contrasting energies, one inward and cautious, the other charismatic and restless.

The film blends science fiction, western imagery and monster movie tradition.

Yet beneath the thrills sits something more unsettling about entertainment culture and our appetite for disaster.

Strange, ambitious and visually extraordinary.

Celebrity Gogglebox
Channel 4, 9.00pm
Episode 1 of 7 – catch up via Channel 4 streaming

The appeal of Gogglebox has always rested on a simple truth: people enjoy watching other people react. Celebrity editions risk gimmickry, yet often succeed because familiar faces prove unexpectedly candid.

This year’s cast — from Vernon Kay and Paddy McGuinness to Bez and Shaun Ryder, Rylan and his mother Linda — promises the usual mixture of wit, irritation and affectionate chaos.

Have I Got News for You
BBC One, 9.00pm

Yet HIGNFY survives through sharp improvisation and the pleasure of watching certainty punctured.

David Tennant hosts, joined by Michael Gove and Chloe Petts. In politically turbulent times, satire increasingly finds itself competing with reality.

Aretha Franklin Night
BBC Four, from 9.00pm
Catch up via iPlayer

Aretha Franklin possessed one of those voices capable of sounding both intimate and monumental. BBC Four devotes the evening to the Queen of Soul, celebrating a performer whose artistry transcended genre and era.

Music television rarely needs elaborate justification when the subject is Aretha.

Bodies Bodies Bodies (2022)
BBC One, 11.20pmA horror film on the surface, but really a scalpel aimed at wealth, performance and the jittery anxieties of the very online generation. Bodies Bodies Bodies dresses itself as a murder‑mystery, yet the real bloodletting happens in the group chat — status, insecurity and self‑curation turning toxic long before anyone picks up a weapon.

The satire is razor‑clean. Every accusation feels like a performance, every confession a bid for sympathy, every friendship a negotiation of power. It’s funny, vicious and uncomfortably accurate about how quickly people implode when the Wi‑Fi drops and the masks slip.

A thriller for the age of curated selves and catastrophic overthinking — sharp, stylish and far more revealing than its neon chaos suggests.

The Lighthouse (2019)
Channel 4, 1.05am

Robert Eggers’ The Lighthouse is less a film than a fever — a two‑handed descent into isolation, superstition and the kind of madness that grows when the sea won’t stop howling. It turns confinement into delirium, the walls closing in as reality begins to warp.

Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson clash magnificently, two men circling each other like rival myths. Dafoe’s barnacled old keeper speaks in curses and sea‑dog poetry; Pattinson’s younger man unravels in fits and starts, as if the island itself is prying him open.

Shot in stark black‑and‑white, the film feels ancient and alien, as though dredged up from some forgotten maritime

Radio Selections

A digital radio displaying '92.5 FM' with black headphones placed beside it on a smooth surface, representing a modern radio listening experience.

Archive on 4: The Louisville Lip
Saturday, 8.00pm – Radio 4

Muhammad Ali continues to echo across this week’s schedules. This documentary revisits the boxer whose brilliance and provocation reshaped sport and public life.

Voices from the Beach
Sunday, 7.15pm – Radio 4

At the heart of Voices from the Beach is poet Sali Katebe, who arrived in Britain from landlocked Zambia and fell, almost immediately, for the strange, shifting magic of our coastlines. The programme uses his perspective as its anchor: someone encountering the sea not as a familiar backdrop but as a revelation — a place where sound, weather and memory seem to rearrange themselves.

Katebe’s voice threads through the piece like a tide‑line. He speaks of beaches as thresholds, as invitations, as spaces where the mind loosens and the past drifts closer. Around him, Radio 4 builds an immersive soundscape: gulls cutting across the air, waves folding over themselves, the soft percussion of shingle underfoot. It’s radio that breathes.

What emerges is part memoir, part meditation. Katebe reflects on belonging, on the pull of water for someone raised far from it, and on how coastlines can become a kind of emotional shorthand — for arrival, for solitude, for the quiet work of remaking a life. The programme listens closely to the small things: the way light changes on a grey afternoon, the rhythm of a walk taken to clear the head, the stories beaches seem to hold without ever speaking.

Reflective, atmospheric and quietly moving, it’s a reminder that the sea means different things depending on where you began — and that sometimes the most powerful journeys happen at the water’s edge.

Podcast Picks

A desktop podcasting setup featuring a microphone on a boom arm, a laptop displaying sound waves, a notepad with a pen, and a coffee cup.

We Was Robbed (Audible – available 28th May)

Gabriel Gatehouse investigates one of English football’s enduring mysteries — what derailed England’s 1970 World Cup defence, and was Gordon Banks somehow “knobbled”? The series mixes sporting folklore, forgotten detail and investigative curiosity with real verve.

Stateside with Kai and Carter

The Guardian launches a podcast for listeners exhausted by the churn of modern news. Three times weekly, Kai Wright and Carter Sherman unpack American stories with guests able to explain rather than inflame.

Kingdom of Fraud

Michele McPhee investigates a billion-dollar tax fraud involving Armenian mafia figure Levon Termendzhyan and Mormon sect leader Jacob Kingston.

True crime with scale, intrigue and stranger-than-fiction alliances.

Streaming Choices

A hand holding a remote control points at a television showing streaming options labeled 'Top Picks' and 'New Releases,' with a radio displaying FM frequency 92.5 in the foreground and a bowl of popcorn next to it.

Netflix

The Murder of Rachel Nickell

A sober, unsettling retelling of a case that scarred the 1990s. The documentary avoids lurid reconstruction, focusing instead on institutional failure, media frenzy and the human cost of a police force chasing the wrong man. Clear‑eyed, compassionate and quietly devastating.

It Ends With Us Available now

Colleen Hoover’s bestseller arrives on screen as a glossy, emotionally forthright drama about love, trauma and the patterns people struggle to break. Blake Lively anchors it with a performance that balances charm and bruised resolve. Melodrama with purpose, and more bite than expected.


Michael Jackson: The Verdict Available Wednesday, 3 June 2026

A cool, methodical examination of the legal battles that reshaped Jackson’s final years. Rather than reheating scandal, it traces the machinery of accusation, defence and public perception. The result is stark, unsettling and revealing about the pressures placed on a man already living inside a global myth.

Channel 4 Streaming


Walter Presents: The Devil’s Throat All 12 episodes from Friday, 5 June 2026

A taut Bulgarian thriller that blends crime drama with political unease. The investigation winds through corruption, folklore and buried trauma, giving the series a brooding, wintry charge. Dark, deliberate and quietly gripping.

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Culture Vulture: 16th–22nd May 2026

There’s a strong undercurrent running through this week’s selections: institutions under pressure, myths being dismantled, and the uneasy relationship between image and reality. Whether it’s the collapsing morality of Brighton Rock, the paranoia of The Teachers’ Lounge, the media manipulations of Berlusconi and Elon Musk, or Marilyn Monroe trapped within the machinery of celebrity, much of this week’s viewing circles around people caught inside systems larger than themselves. Even the lighter selections carry that tension beneath the surface. Mean Girls understands social hierarchy as ruthlessly as any political thriller, while Rivals turns 1980s television into a battlefield of ego, money and performance.

Three highlights stand out this week. 🌟 Apocalypse Now remains one of cinema’s greatest visions of imperial madness, still overwhelming nearly fifty years on. 🌟 The Teachers’ Lounge is one of the sharpest recent dramas about institutional panic and surveillance culture. 🌟 BBC Four’s Dylan night offers a fascinating meditation on artistic reinvention, obsession and mythmaking around one of popular music’s most elusive figures.

As ever, Culture Vulture tries to look beyond simple entertainment value. This week’s programmes and films repeatedly ask who controls narratives, who benefits from power, and how individuals navigate systems built around spectacle, authority and manipulation. Fortunately, they also happen to be exceptionally entertaining.

Saturday 16th May 2026

🌟 The Teachers’ Lounge (2023) – BBC Four, 9pm and available on BBC iPlayer

This tense German drama turns an ordinary secondary school into a miniature surveillance state. When a series of thefts leads to accusations among staff and pupils, idealistic teacher Carla Nowak finds herself trapped inside a spiralling culture of suspicion, institutional self-protection and moral panic. What begins as a seemingly minor disciplinary issue gradually escalates into something far more unsettling.

Director İlker Çatak understands how quickly modern institutions can become consumed by process rather than justice. The school’s language of fairness and safeguarding masks deeper anxieties around authority, reputation and control, while social media and digital communication intensify every misunderstanding. Leonie Benesch gives a superb performance as a teacher attempting to remain principled while the structures around her quietly collapse.

What makes The Teachers’ Lounge so effective is its refusal to offer easy villains. Almost everyone believes they are acting reasonably, yet the collective result becomes increasingly oppressive and irrational. Sharp, claustrophobic and deeply contemporary, it is one of the most perceptive films about institutional anxiety in recent years.

Brighton Rock (1947) – Talking Pictures, 1.40pm

Few British crime films capture moral decay as vividly as Brighton Rock. Adapted from Brighton Rock by Graham Greene, the film turns the seaside resort into a landscape of spiritual corruption and post-war unease. Richard Attenborough delivers a chilling performance as Pinkie Brown, a teenage gangster whose cruelty seems inseparable from his terror of the world around him.

The Brighton depicted here feels haunted by decline, its cheap entertainments masking something darker beneath the surface. Decades later, the film still feels unsettling precisely because it refuses easy redemption or comforting morality.

Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison (1957) – Film4, 2.55pm

Deborah Kerr and Robert Mitchum bring remarkable emotional subtlety to this wartime drama about isolation, repression and companionship. Director John Huston allows silence and atmosphere to do much of the work, creating a sense of emotional tension that lingers throughout.

The film quietly reflects the anxieties of the 1950s: duty, faith, masculinity and the difficulty of emotional honesty. Beneath the tropical setting lies a surprisingly mature meditation on loneliness and sacrifice.

Mandate for Murder: Britain’s Struggle in Palestine – PBS America, 10.15pm

This documentary examines the final years of the British Mandate in Palestine, exploring how imperial policy, insurgency and diplomatic failure combined to shape a conflict whose consequences still reverberate globally today.

Dense but highly absorbing, it offers valuable historical context for understanding a region still trapped within unresolved tensions from that era.

Upgrade (2018) – Legend, 11.15pm

Leigh Whannell’s brutal techno-thriller feels increasingly plausible with every passing year. Set in a near future dominated by surveillance capitalism and invasive technology, Upgrade follows a paralysed mechanic implanted with an experimental AI system after a violent attack leaves his wife dead.

The film’s ending remains one of the bleakest mainstream science-fiction finales of recent years — a chilling warning about autonomy, algorithms and technological dependency.

The Last Duel (2021) – Channel 4, 11.20pm

Ridley Scott returns to medieval Europe with a film examining violence, masculinity and power through sharply contemporary eyes. Jodie Comer gives the film its moral centre in a story less about spectacle than institutional injustice.

Far from being merely historical drama, the film becomes a study of credibility, entitlement and systems protecting themselves.

Sunday 17th May 2026

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) – BBC Two, 2.30pm

Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell radiate charisma in one of Hollywood’s most joyous musicals. Beneath the glamour sits a surprisingly sharp satire about money, romance and survival within post-war America.

The film’s refusal to punish female ambition remains refreshingly modern.

Mean Girls (2004) – ITV2, 7.05pm

Tina Fey’s Mean Girls arrives in 2004 looking like a bubblegum teen comedy, all pink plastics and cafeteria cartography, but beneath the gloss it’s doing something far more sly. Fey treats the American high school not as a backdrop but as a fully functioning micro‑state — a place where power is negotiated through appearance, language, and the ever‑shifting borders of adolescent allegiance. The film understands that the real curriculum isn’t maths or English but the daily study of how to survive socially without losing your sense of self.

What gives it its staying power is the precision of its observation. Every corridor becomes a diplomatic zone. Every lunch table a fragile coalition. Every outfit a communiqué. And into this world walks Cady Heron, a girl raised outside the system who must learn its rules at speed. Her journey — from naïve outsider to calculating insider and back again — is less a plot than a case study in how identity is shaped, warped and sometimes obliterated by the need to belong.

Long before Instagram, TikTok or the relentless metrics of modern teenage life, Mean Girls grasped the exhausting labour of self‑surveillance. The way young people monitor themselves with the vigilance of border guards. The way a single misstep can feel like a geopolitical crisis. Watching it now, you realise Fey wasn’t just writing jokes; she was diagnosing a culture on the brink of becoming permanently performative.

And yet the film never loses its lightness. It’s funny, quotable, brisk — but threaded with a melancholy awareness of how fragile teenage identities really are. Beneath the bright colours and the comic timing lies a portrait of a generation rehearsing adulthood under fluorescent lights, trying on personas like costumes, hoping one of them might fit.

It remains, two decades on, one of the sharpest dissections of adolescent politics ever smuggled into a mainstream comedy. A film that saw the future coming and, with a raised eyebrow, warned us what it would feel like to live inside it.

The Cage – Episode 4 of 5 – BBC One, 9pm, full series available on BBC iPlayer

This gripping thriller continues to build tension around surveillance, secrecy and institutional distrust. The show’s atmosphere of quiet paranoia increasingly feels rooted in contemporary anxieties about systems designed more to contain than protect.

Brother (2022) – BBC Two, 10.50pm

Based on David Chariandy’s acclaimed novel, Brother is a deeply moving exploration of grief, race and masculinity within Toronto’s Caribbean community. Director Clement Virgo handles the material with enormous sensitivity.

Quietly devastating, it lingers long after the credits.

Mosul (2022) – Great Action, 1.30am

In Mosul, the war is not a backdrop but a suffocating atmosphere—grit, dust, and exhaustion pressed into every frame. The film rejects the clean lines of heroism and instead inhabits the chaos of a city pulverised by ideology and survival instinct. Streets are reduced to rubble, loyalties to reflex. What remains is the human impulse to endure, even when meaning has collapsed.

The Iraqi fighters here are not symbols but men hollowed by repetition—each skirmish another act of attrition rather than triumph. Director Matthew Michael Carnahan captures the rhythm of fatigue: the way violence becomes procedural, stripped of rhetoric, leaving only the weary mechanics of staying alive. The camera moves like a participant, not an observer, its urgency mirroring the moral claustrophobia of a world where every choice corrodes.

By the end, Mosul feels less like a war film than a study in entropy. Ideology dissolves, leaving behind the stubborn persistence of humanity amid ruin—a portrait of courage that refuses to flatter itself.

Monday 18th May 2026

Our Tiny Islands – More4, 9pm

This quietly beautiful documentary visits the Scottish island of Iona, where sheep farmer Joanne balances agricultural life with the fragile realities of island survival.

At a time when television often chases noise and conflict, Our Tiny Islands offers something slower and more reflective.

The Cage – BBC One, 9pm, full series on BBC iPlayer

The latest episode deepens the show’s atmosphere of institutional paranoia, pushing its characters further into moral uncertainty.

Lucy Worsley Investigates: The American Revolution – BBC Two, 9pm, available

Lucy Worsley explores the myths, contradictions and contested narratives surrounding the American Revolution.

Timely viewing at a moment when democratic ideals and national identity are once again fiercely contested.

Thailand: The Dark Side of Paradise – BBC Three, 9pm, 9.45pm and 10.30pm

This documentary strand explores the criminal underworlds and hidden economies operating beneath Thailand’s tourist image, examining how escapism, organised crime and inequality collide.

There is a strong undercurrent of melancholy beneath the beaches and nightlife.

Destroyer (2018) – BBC Two, 11.45pm

Nicole Kidman gives one of her boldest performances in this bleak neo-noir about trauma, guilt and institutional corruption.

Difficult, uncompromising and deeply atmospheric.

Tuesday 19th May 2026

Corinthians: We Were the Champions – BBC Four, 10pm, available on BBC iPlayer

This is the story of a team history almost forgot — the Manchester Corinthians Ladies FC, founded in 1949 and forged in defiance of the FA’s long, punitive ban on women’s football. The documentary gathers ten surviving players, now in their seventies, eighties and nineties, and lets them speak with the clarity of people who lived through something both exhilarating and quietly outrageous: a period when women were told, officially and repeatedly, that the sport they loved was not for them.

What emerges is not a tale of plucky novelty but of solidarity under constraint. These women built their own infrastructure when the governing body refused them pitches, recognition or even basic legitimacy. They toured the world, played to vast crowds abroad, and won tournaments that the FA pretended didn’t exist. The film treats these achievements not as curiosities but as acts of cultural resistance — small, determined rebellions against a system that tried to erase them.

There’s a tenderness to the way the documentary listens. The players recall the thrill of travel, the camaraderie of long coach journeys, the pride of representing a country that refused to acknowledge them. But threaded through the anecdotes is a sharper truth: that their success forced the FA, decades later, into a rare moment of contrition. The apology lands like a delayed recognition of what they always knew — that they were champions long before anyone bothered to write it down.

More than a sports documentary, it becomes a study of perseverance, collective dignity and the politics of being told “no” and playing on anyway. A portrait of women who refused to wait for permission, and in doing so changed the landscape of the game for everyone who followed.

Belmarsh: Serial Killers and High Security – Channel 5, 11.05pm and 12.05am

This two-part documentary enters Britain’s most notorious high-security prison, examining violent offenders alongside the institutional systems built to contain them.

The programme raises uncomfortable questions about punishment, spectacle and society’s fascination with true crime.

Small Town Big Riot – BBC Three, 11.20pm and 12.20am

BBC Three revisits the 2023 riots in Kirkby, Merseyside, before turning to local opposition surrounding a planned asylum centre.

Rather than simplifying events into slogans, the documentary explores mistrust, economic pressure and fractured community identity in modern Britain.

Berlusconi: Condemned to Win – Part 3 – BBC Four, 11.30pm, also available on BBC iPlayer

This fascinating documentary examines how Silvio Berlusconi fused celebrity culture, media ownership and populist politics long before such tactics became globally familiar.

Watching it now often feels less like history than prophecy.

The Krays (1990) – BBC One, 11.45pm

Peter Medak’s portrait of the Kray twins remains one of Britain’s most psychologically interesting gangster films — less interested in swagger than emotional dependency and social claustrophobia.

Wednesday 20th May 2026

The Future with Hannah Fry – BBC Two, 7.30pm, available on BBC iPlayer

Hannah Fry returns with another accessible exploration of science, technology and rapidly changing modern life.

At a moment when AI and automation dominate public debate, the programme offers useful reflection rather than panic.

Green Book (2018) – BBC Three, 9pmGreen Book (2018) — BBC Three — 9pm

Green Book is at its most compelling when it stops trying to solve America and simply lets its two leads inhabit the uneasy space between them. Mahershala Ali and Viggo Mortensen give the film its emotional ballast: Ali with his contained, almost architectural precision; Mortensen with a looser, more instinctive physicality. Together they create a dynamic that feels lived‑in rather than schematic — two men negotiating the boundaries of class, race and masculinity in a country that insists those boundaries are fixed.

Set against the backdrop of a segregated America, the road trip becomes a kind of moving pressure chamber. Each town, each bar, each immaculate Southern mansion exposes a different facet of the racial order: its absurdities, its cruelties, its rituals of humiliation. The film doesn’t always confront these structures with the sharpness they deserve, but it does understand how racism shapes the smallest interactions — the glances, the silences, the rules that are never spoken aloud because everyone already knows them.

What keeps the film interesting today is precisely this tension. It wants reconciliation, warmth, the possibility of mutual recognition. But it can’t entirely escape the shadows cast by the world it depicts. The friendship that develops between Don Shirley and Tony Lip is touching, yes, but it is also freighted with the asymmetries of the era: who gets to move freely, who gets to speak plainly, who gets to be fully themselves without consequence.

Viewed now, Green Book feels like a film caught between two impulses — the desire to soothe and the need to acknowledge. It doesn’t resolve that contradiction, but in its better moments it lets the audience sit with it. And in the performances of Ali and Mortensen, you sense the deeper story beneath the surface: two men travelling through a country that is still deciding who counts, and on what terms.

Marilyn and the Mob – Channel 4, 10pm and 11pm

This two-part documentary explores the long-rumoured connections between Marilyn Monroe, organised crime and Hollywood power structures.

At its best, the programme becomes less about conspiracy and more about exploitation, celebrity and institutional manipulation.

Thursday 21st May 2026

Marilyn Monroe Night – BBC Four, from 8pm

BBC Four devotes the evening to Marilyn Monroe, beginning with Eva Marilyn (1987), in which photographer Eve Arnold reflects on her encounters with Monroe beyond the studio image.

The evening also includes Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953), a programme on Jane Russell, and How to Marry a Millionaire (1953).

Taken together, the evening becomes less nostalgia than a meditation on celebrity, femininity and the machinery of fame.

Shadow of a Doubt (1943) – Film4, 2.25pm

Often cited by Alfred Hitchcock as one of his personal favourites, this superb thriller transforms small-town America into a landscape of hidden menace and creeping paranoia.

The Elon Musk Show: The Next Chapter – BBC Two, 9pm

This follow-up documentary examines the increasingly chaotic and politically divisive public life of Elon Musk.

The programme asks increasingly urgent questions about private wealth, technology and democratic accountability.

Friday 22nd May 2026

🌟 Apocalypse Now (1979) – Film4, 9pm

Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now remains one of cinema’s great, disorienting plunges into the abyss — a film that doesn’t so much depict war as inhale it, choke on it, and exhale something feverish and unsteady. Loosely tracing the bones of Heart of Darkness, it follows Captain Willard upriver on a mission that becomes less a military assignment than a descent through layers of moral erosion. Each stop along the river feels like a different stage of psychic collapse, a place where the usual coordinates — duty, sanity, purpose — have slipped out of reach.

What still astonishes, nearly fifty years on, is the film’s hallucinatory density. Coppola shoots Vietnam as a landscape where reality buckles under the weight of spectacle: helicopters choreographed to Wagner, flares blooming like poisonous flowers, the jungle vibrating with menace. It’s war as theatre, war as ritual, war as a kind of collective madness in which everyone is performing a version of themselves they no longer recognise.

Willard’s journey towards Colonel Kurtz becomes a study in contagion — how violence seeps into the bloodstream, how the line between hunter and hunted dissolves. By the time we reach Kurtz’s compound, the film has shed any pretence of conventional narrative. What’s left is a confrontation with the darkest corners of human capability, delivered in whispers, shadows and the oppressive heat of a world where morality has evaporated.

The scale is operatic, the mood narcotic, the effect overwhelming. Even now, the film feels less like something you watch than something you endure — a fever dream that drags you into its undertow and leaves you blinking, unsettled, unsure where the nightmare ends and the world resumes.

🌟 Dylan Night – BBC Four, from 9pm

Close-up portrait of an older man with curly hair, wearing a black leather jacket and a bolo tie. He has a serious expression and is looking directly at the camera.
Bob Dylan by KollectivFutur

BBC Four celebrates Bob Dylan with Sings DylanSings Dylan 2Shadow Kingdom and the fascinating documentary Tangled Up with Dylan: The Ballad of A.J. Weberman.

Together they become an exploration not simply of Dylan’s music, but of obsession, mythology and artistic reinvention itself.

And Now for Something Completely Different (1971) – BBC Two, 11pm

Before Monty Python became a national institution — the sort of comedy outfit wheeled out for anniversaries, retrospectives and reverent documentaries — they were something far stranger and more volatile. This early film, a stitched‑together anthology of their best sketches, captures them in their anarchic prime: gleefully dismantling authority, respectability and the very idea that comedy should obey the rules of narrative, logic or even basic continuity.

What’s striking, watching it now, is how alive it still feels. The humour doesn’t build; it detonates. Sketches begin in one register and end in another entirely. Punchlines are abandoned mid‑stride. Characters wander in from other sketches as if lost. It’s comedy as controlled demolition, performed by a troupe who understood that the quickest way to expose the absurdity of British life was simply to tilt it a few degrees and let the madness spill out.

The unpredictability is the point. By refusing normal structures — setups, payoffs, tidy resolutions — the Pythons created a form that mirrored the chaos they were mocking. Bureaucracy, class, patriotism, masculinity, the BBC itself: everything is fair game, and everything collapses under the weight of its own pomposity.

Half a century on, the film remains a reminder of how radical they once were. Before the merchandise, the nostalgia and the canonisation, there was this: a group of very clever people breaking comedy open just to see what new shapes it could make.

Streaming Choice

Untold: Liverpool’s Miracle of Istanbul – Available from Tuesday 19th May on Netflix

The 2005 Champions League final has been replayed so often it risks feeling like folklore rather than fact — a story polished by repetition, its edges smoothed by nostalgia. What this Untold documentary does is return to the rawness of the night itself, stripping away the myth to reveal the sheer improbability of what Liverpool achieved in Istanbul. It treats the match not as a highlight reel but as a collective emotional event: a moment when belief, identity and sheer stubborn refusal to accept defeat collided in a way that still feels faintly unreal.

The film understands that football at this level is never just football. It’s memory, inheritance, a kind of secular faith. The first half is presented almost as a study in despair — 3–0 down to an AC Milan side of almost absurd quality, the gulf between the teams looking unbridgeable. And then comes the shift: the surge of noise, the recalibration of hope, the sense that something irrational and magnificent is beginning to stir. The documentary captures that momentum with real care, showing how a team can be transformed not just tactically but spiritually.

What makes it compelling is the way it listens to the people who lived it — players, supporters, commentators — each carrying their own version of the night. For some, it’s a story of resilience; for others, of destiny; for many, a reminder of why football matters at all. The match becomes a vessel for something larger: the idea that identity is shaped not only by triumph but by the moments when triumph seemed impossible.

Nearly twenty years on, the Miracle of Istanbul remains one of sport’s great narrative ruptures — a night when logic failed and belief took over. This documentary honours that strangeness. It shows how a single match can become a communal memory, retold and re‑felt across generations, and why Liverpool supporters still speak of it with a kind of reverent disbelief.

Inspector Ricciardi – Series 3 available from Friday 22nd May on Channel 4 Streaming

One of television’s most atmospheric European crime dramas returns with more melancholy, mystery and political unease in 1930s Naples.

Inside Thailand’s British Drug Gangs: Untold – Available from Tuesday 19th May on Channel 4 Streaming

This unsettling documentary examines British criminal networks operating within Thailand’s tourist economy.

Kylie – All three episodes available from Wednesday on Netflix

A surprisingly reflective documentary series exploring Kylie Minogue’s career, resilience and ability to survive shifting pop landscapes.

I Saw the TV Glow – Available now on Netflix

Jane Schoenbrun’s haunting cult film explores identity, media obsession and emotional alienation through the lens of late-night television and adolescent loneliness.

Rivals – Season 2 available now on Disney+ UK

Jilly Cooper’s gloriously excessive world of media rivalry, sex and ambition returns with even more ego, manipulation and silk-shirted chaos.

Radio Picks

60 Years of Hurt – Radio 4, Saturday 10am

A sharply observed, six‑part excavation of England’s longest‑running national complex. Presented by David Baddiel, the series traces how decades of footballing disappointment — the near‑misses, the penalty traumas, the tournaments that slipped away — have seeped into the country’s sense of itself. What begins as sporting failure becomes cultural inheritance.

Across the six weeks, Baddiel brings in voices who’ve lived it from the inside and the outside: Dear England playwright James Graham, and former England stalwarts Stuart Pearce and David Seaman, among others. Their perspectives give the programme its mix of humour, melancholy and quiet revelation — a portrait of modern Britain told through the ache of what might have been.

Funny, rueful, and unexpectedly tender about the stories a nation builds around its own heartbreak.

Tarot and the Art of Creativity – Radio 4, Sunday 7.15pm

This thoughtful feature explores the relationship between tarot, symbolism and artistic inspiration. Rather than treating tarot as mere superstition, the programme examines it as metaphor, storytelling and creative provocation.

In an increasingly data-driven culture, there is something quietly refreshing about a programme willing to explore ambiguity and imagination.

Podcast Picks

The Story of Money with Gillian Tett and Robin Wigglesworth

What Gillian Tett and Robin Wigglesworth do so well in The Story of Money is peel back the surface of finance — the headlines, the market jitters, the jargon — and reveal the hidden architecture underneath. They speak with the clarity of people who have spent years watching how money actually behaves in the real world: not as an abstract economic force, but as a system of beliefs, habits, hierarchies and power structures that shape almost every aspect of modern life.

There’s a conversational ease to the way they explain things. You never feel lectured; you feel invited in. Tett draws on her anthropological instincts, showing how financial systems evolve like cultures, with rituals, taboos and unspoken rules. Wigglesworth brings the long view — the sweep of history, the way ideas about value and risk mutate across centuries. Together they make the complex feel graspable without ever flattening it.

What emerges is a portrait of money as something far stranger and more human than we usually admit. It’s a story of trust and illusion, of institutions built on collective belief, of crises that expose the fragility of systems we assume are solid. And in their hands, these ideas become not just intellectually engaging but quietly revealing about how power operates today — who benefits, who carries the risk, and who gets written out of the narrative.

It’s the kind of programme that leaves you seeing the world differently: the headlines, the markets, the political arguments, even the way we talk about debt and value. Tett and Wigglesworth don’t just explain finance; they illuminate the psychology and politics that sit beneath it, reminding you that money is never just money. It’s a story we’re all living inside, whether we realise it or not.

Gangster Presents: The Story of Ronnie Biggs

A fascinating exploration of Ronnie Biggs, celebrity criminality and Britain’s complicated fascination with outlaw mythology.

Everyday Positivity with Kate Cocker

Everyday Positivity with Kate Cocker

Everyday Positivity has become one of those rare fixtures in my day — a small, steadying voice that slips into the morning and quietly resets the emotional weather. I listen to Kate Cocker every single day, and over time I’ve realised how much I’ve absorbed from the little nuggets she drops almost casually, as if she’s chatting across a kitchen table rather than broadcasting to thousands.

What makes her so effective is the tone: calm, conversational, never preachy. She doesn’t arrive with grand theories or the glossy language of self‑help. Instead, she offers practical reflections on anxiety, stress and the low‑level emotional static that modern life generates. Her Pillars of Positivity have become a kind of internal toolkit — simple, repeatable habits that help you reorient yourself when the day starts to tilt. And her thoughts on gratitude are delivered with such gentle clarity that they feel less like advice and more like reminders of things you already knew but had somehow misplaced.

There’s something disarmingly human about the way she speaks. She acknowledges the messiness of real life — the wobbling confidence, the overthinking, the days when you feel slightly out of step with yourself — and then offers a way to navigate it without judgement. It’s not therapy, not philosophy, not performance. It’s companionship with good advice.

What the podcast ultimately provides is a rhythm: a moment of pause, a breath, a recalibration. And in a world that rarely grants us any of those, Kate Cocker’s voice becomes a small act of daily repair — a reminder that steadiness can be practised, and that positivity, when done properly, is less about cheerfulness than about choosing how to meet the day.

Promotional image for 'The White Rooms' by TP Bragg featuring a blurred background and text overlay.

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