Posts Tagged tv highlights

Culture Vulture 29 August–4 September 2026

There’s a distinctly end-of-summer feel to this week’s Culture Vulture, but the schedules are far from winding down. In fact, there’s a very strong run of films across the week, some returning television favourites and a streaming slate which ranges from period crime to superheroes and prestige drama.

Three things stand out for me. First, BBC Two gives us the complete Godfather trilogy across Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. Whatever your view of the third film, that is still quite a proposition.

Secondly, there’s an excellent musical thread running through the weekend, from Wham! and the Beach Boys to the Mamas and the Papas, not forgetting a Proms evening devoted to James Bond. And finally, Gogglebox returns for its 28th series on Friday. There are programmes which reinvent television and programmes which simply understand television. Gogglebox has always belonged rather comfortably in the second category.

Here’s what caught my eye.

Saturday 29 August

6.10pm, PBS America — Athens: Birthplace of Democracy

A look back to the city and political culture which gave the Western world one of its most enduring — if frequently contested — ideas.

7.30pm, BBC Two — BBC Proms: Daniel Bartholomew-Poyser Has a Licence to Thrill

Daniel Bartholomew-Poyser and the BBC Concert Orchestra turn their attention to the music of James Bond. Bond themes have always been unusually ambitious bits of popular music in their own right, so there is plenty here for an orchestra to get its teeth into. Catch up via BBC iPlayer.

9pm, BBC Four — Kabul

Drama set against the chaos surrounding the fall of Kabul in August 2021. The full series is available on BBC iPlayer.

9pm, Sky Arts — Chaplin (1992)

Attenborough’s sweeping biopic isn’t shy about its own grandeur, and Robert Downey Jr meets that scale with a performance that’s all quicksilver brilliance and bruised vulnerability. He doesn’t impersonate Chaplin so much as inhabit him — the physical precision, the darting intelligence, the melancholy that sits just behind the eyes. It’s a turn that reminds you how astonishingly gifted Downey was even before his later reinventions.

The film itself is a handsome, old‑school studio epic: big sets, big emotions, big narrative leaps. Attenborough charts Chaplin’s rise from poverty to global fame with a kind of museum‑quality reverence, but he’s at his best when he lets the cracks show — the political battles, the personal failings, the way genius and ego grind against each other. The supporting cast is a parade of familiar faces, each dropping in to sketch a moment in Chaplin’s turbulent life, but it’s Downey who keeps the whole thing alive, electric, and strangely intimate.

Not a perfect film, but a fascinating one — and worth revisiting for a performance that still feels like lightning in a bottle.

9pm — Wham! 10 Days in China

A look at Wham!’s groundbreaking 1985 visit to China, when George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley became the first major Western pop act to tour the country.

10.25pm, BBC Two — Wham! at the BBC

More George and Andrew, this time through the BBC archives.

10.30pm, Channel 5 — Kinky Boots (2005)

A film that knows exactly what it’s doing and does it with a grin. Kinky Boots takes the very real anxieties of a failing Northampton shoe factory and spins them into a buoyant, big‑hearted fable about reinvention. The premise — pivoting from sturdy brogues to flamboyant, high‑heeled fetish boots — is inherently comic, but the charm lies in how sincerely it treats the people involved.

Joel Edgerton gives the factory’s reluctant heir a nicely rumpled decency, but it’s Chiwetel Ejiofor who detonates the film’s energy. His Lola is a force of nature: glamorous, sharp, wounded, and utterly magnetic. Every scene he’s in lifts the film from gentle workplace comedy into something with real emotional voltage. The dynamic between Lola and the factory lads — suspicion giving way to curiosity, then respect — is handled with a light touch that never tips into sermonising.

It’s a story about survival, pride, and the unexpected places solidarity can bloom. Warm, funny, and quietly radical in its insistence that tradition and transformation don’t have to be enemies. A crowd‑pleaser with a bit of steel in its spine.

1.35am, BBC Two — Compartment No. 6 (2021)

A film that moves in small, almost imperceptible shifts — the kind that creep up on you and suddenly feel enormous. Compartment No. 6 traps two strangers in the narrow, rattling purgatory of a long train ride: a Finnish archaeology student fleeing a complicated relationship, and a Russian miner whose bluntness initially feels like a personal attack. It begins in discomfort — the kind of social claustrophobia anyone who’s ever been stuck in the wrong carriage at the wrong time will recognise.

What follows is beautifully observed, never hurried. Director Juho Kuosmanen has a gift for noticing the tiny gestures that reveal people: a half‑smile, a defensive shrug, the way irritation softens into curiosity. The film’s great strength is its refusal to force intimacy; instead, it lets connection emerge in the gaps between language, in shared cigarettes, in the bleak humour of bad weather and worse circumstances.

The Arctic Circle looms like a metaphor — cold, distant, unreachable — yet the journey towards it becomes unexpectedly warm. By the time the train judders into its final stops, the film has quietly built something tender out of loneliness, miscommunication and the strange, fragile alliances that form when two people have nowhere else to go.

Sunday 30 August

5.25pm, Sky Arts — The Beach Boys: Endless Harmony

The Beach Boys story told through archive footage, music and the complicated relationships behind all those immaculate harmonies.

5.25pm, BBC Two — The Italian Job (1969)

A film so woven into British pop culture that it barely needs announcing — but it deserves celebrating. The Italian Job remains the purest expression of late‑60s swagger: Michael Caine at his most effortlessly charismatic, a caper built on cheek and precision, and a vision of Britain that believed ingenuity could outshine brute force.

Everything about it is engineered for delight. The Minis — red, white and blue — dart through Turin with balletic confidence, turning the city into a playground of tunnels, rooftops and improbable escape routes. Quincy Jones’ score snaps and struts. The supporting cast, from Noël Coward’s magnificently patrician Mr Bridger to Benny Hill’s chaotic cameo, adds texture to the film’s comic‑criminal ecosystem.

And then there’s that ending. The bus, the cliff, the gold, the unresolved teeter that has fuelled half a century of debate. It’s the perfect final note: audacious, funny, and refusing to tidy itself away. A caper that knows the value of leaving you suspended — grinning, guessing, and wanting just a little more.

6.20pm, ITV4 — Waterloo (1970)

Bondarchuk’s thunderous epic of Napoleon’s last stand still has the power to astonish. Before computers made massed battles a matter of software, this was done the hard way: tens of thousands of real soldiers manoeuvred across vast fields, cavalry charges thundering through smoke, and artillery barrages staged with unnerving force.

Rod Steiger gives a brooding, volatile Napoleon; Christopher Plummer’s Wellington is all cool calculation. But the real star is the scale — the sheer logistical madness of recreating Waterloo with such detail and weight. It’s old‑school spectacle, the kind that reminds you what cinema can do when ambition meets an army.

7pm, BBC One — Hamza: African Birds of Prey

Hamza Yassin turns his attention to Africa’s magnificent birds of prey. Catch up via BBC iPlayer.

7.40pm, Sky Arts — California Dreaming: The Songs of the Mamas and the Papas

The music and story of one of the defining vocal groups of the 1960s.

9pm, Film4 — A Few Good Men (1992)

Cruise brings the drive; Nicholson brings the detonation. Rob Reiner’s military courtroom drama is sharply written and tightly paced, but it’s Nicholson who tilts the whole thing on its axis. As Colonel Jessup, he strides in late, occupies the film for barely a handful of scenes, and still manages to dominate it through sheer force of personality.

Cruise’s young Navy lawyer pushes, probes and tries to stay upright under the weight of the institution he’s challenging, but the film’s electricity comes from the collision between the two men — idealism meeting absolute authority. By the time Nicholson delivers his famous tirade, the verdict is already in: he steals the picture cleanly, confidently, and without breaking a sweat.

9pm, BBC One — Vigil

The thriller returns to the schedules, with the full series available on BBC iPlayer.

9pm, ITV1 — Trigger Point

More bomb disposal tension, with the full series available on ITVX.

10pm, BBC Two — The Godfather (1972)

Coppola’s first chapter in the Corleone saga remains one of cinema’s great acts of world‑building: shadowed rooms, whispered loyalties, and violence delivered with ritualistic calm. Brando’s Vito is the film’s centre of gravity, a weary patriarch whose authority seems to bend the air around him.

But it’s Pacino who quietly reshapes the story. His Michael begins as the outsider — the son who insists he’s not part of the family business — and Pacino plays those early scenes with a stillness that barely registers as ambition. Across three hours, that stillness hardens. Every decision, every silence, every glance nudges him further into the darkness.

By the time he closes the door in the final shot, the transformation is complete: a man who thought he could stand apart has become the very thing he feared. It’s one of the most controlled, chilling performances ever put on film.

11pm, Yesterday — Sir Alex Ferguson: Never Give In (2021)

A portrait of Ferguson that refuses to settle for the familiar mythology. Yes, the football is there — the trophies, the authority, the ferocious competitive instinct — but the documentary’s real interest lies elsewhere. It looks at the man after the noise has faded: his childhood, his marriage, the rhythms of family life, and the frightening vulnerability of his 2018 brain haemorrhage.

What emerges is a study in memory and mortality. Ferguson reflects on the past not as a sequence of victories but as a series of turning points, losses, recoveries, and the people who shaped him. The film’s quietness is its strength. It shows how someone defined by control confronts the one thing he cannot command: time.

Bank Holiday Monday 31 August

7pm, Sky Arts — Six Minutes to Midnight (2019)

A quietly tense pre‑war thriller with a premise that feels almost too strange to be true: an English finishing school on the Sussex coast where the daughters of high‑ranking Nazi officials are being groomed into perfect ambassadors for the Reich. Eddie Izzard plays a teacher who stumbles into a web of espionage, suspicion and political brinkmanship as Europe edges towards catastrophe.

The film mixes seaside gentility with gathering storm clouds — polite manners, crisp uniforms and the unsettling sense that something poisonous is being cultivated behind closed doors. It’s a story about loyalty, identity and the danger of looking away just when history is about to turn.

8pm, BBC One — The Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo

One of Edinburgh’s great annual spectacles, with massed bands, military precision and the Castle providing a backdrop television could scarcely improve upon.

10.30pm, BBC Two — The Godfather Part II (1974)

The rare sequel that doesn’t just match its predecessor but deepens it. Coppola builds a vast, mournful tapestry of power, family and the corrosive cost of ambition, cutting between two men at two moments in American history: Michael consolidating his empire in the 1950s, and young Vito climbing from poverty to influence half a century earlier.

Pacino’s performance is glacial, terrifying in its restraint — a man hollowing himself out in the name of control. De Niro, meanwhile, gives Vito warmth and quiet resolve, showing how the foundations of the Corleone dynasty were laid with community, necessity and a kind of rough‑edged honour.

The contrast is devastating. One rises to protect his family; the other destroys his in the name of protecting it.

11pm, BBC One — Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994)

The film that turned Richard Curtis’s brand of romantic comedy into a global export. Hugh Grant’s stammering charm was already familiar, but here it crystallised into something irresistible: the diffident Englishman who can’t quite get out of his own way.

What’s easy to forget is just how big a cultural moment this was. A modestly budgeted British film that became an international phenomenon, reshaping the genre for a decade and launching a wave of imitators. Its mix of sharp wit, emotional honesty and unabashed sentiment still works because it never sneers at its characters — it lets them be awkward, hopeful, foolish and occasionally profound.

11.30pm, Film4 — Carol (2015)

Todd Haynes crafts this with exquisite control — every glance, every pause, every shift in light doing as much storytelling as the dialogue. Cate Blanchett’s Carol is poised, elegant, and quietly aching; Rooney Mara’s Therese is all tentative curiosity, drawn into a relationship that feels both impossible and inevitable.

The film moves like a piece of chamber music: restrained, precise, and emotionally devastating in its quietest moments. Haynes lets the 1950s setting press in from all sides — the social constraints, the unspoken rules — while never losing sight of the tenderness at the centre.

2.50am, Channel 4 — Sick of Myself (2022)

A pitch‑black Norwegian comedy that treats narcissism like a competitive sport. The film follows a young woman so desperate to stay at the centre of everyone’s attention that she escalates her behaviour from petty manipulation to outright self‑harm, all in the name of sympathy, notoriety and social currency.

It’s viciously funny and deeply uncomfortable — a satire of performative culture where every gesture is a bid for relevance and every relationship becomes collateral damage. The further she pushes things, the more horrifying and absurd it becomes, until you’re laughing and wincing in the same breath.

A brutally sharp look at the hunger to be seen, and the chaos that follows when that hunger becomes the whole personality.

Tuesday 1 September

3.10pm, Film4 — Send Me No Flowers (1964)

One of the most purely enjoyable Day–Hudson comedies, built on a premise so daft it becomes irresistible. Rock Hudson’s hypochondriac is convinced he’s dying, and in a fit of misguided gallantry decides the best thing he can do for Doris Day’s devoted wife is to line up her next husband.

What follows is a bright, breezy spiral of misunderstandings, jealousies and suburban chaos, powered by the duo’s effortless chemistry and a script that knows exactly how to let them sparkle. It’s feather‑light, colourful and cheerfully silly — the kind of comedy that feels like opening a window on a sunnier world.

5.15pm, Film4 — Spartacus (1960)

Kubrick’s Roman epic is colossal in every sense, but its most radical force sits behind the camera. Spartacus is the film that helped break the Hollywood blacklist: Kirk Douglas insisted that Dalton Trumbo — one of the “Hollywood Ten,” jailed and exiled from the industry for refusing to name names during the McCarthy anti‑Communist purges — be credited under his own name. It was an act of defiance that changed careers and cracked open one of the ugliest chapters in American film history.

On screen, the scale is staggering. Douglas’s Spartacus leads a slave revolt that feels genuinely seismic, and Laurence Olivier presides over Rome with icy patrician menace. Kubrick marshals armies, landscapes and political intrigue with a precision that still impresses, but the film’s heartbeat is its politics — both the rebellion it depicts and the one it quietly enacted in Hollywood.

A landmark of spectacle and a landmark of resistance.

9pm, BBC Three — Scamanda

A four-part documentary telling the extraordinary story of Amanda Riley, whose fraudulent cancer story deceived thousands.

11pm, BBC Four — I Am Martin Parr

A portrait of one of Britain’s most distinctive photographers. Available on BBC iPlayer.

11.05pm, BBC Two — The Godfather Part III (1990)

The trilogy’s closing chapter has lived in the shadow of its predecessors for decades, but taken on its own terms it’s a sombre, compelling epilogue. Coppola shifts the tone from operatic violence to something more reflective: a story about age, regret and the impossibility of outrunning one’s past.

Pacino’s Michael is older, wearier, and haunted by the choices that built his empire. The performance is fascinating — the coiled intensity is still there, but now it’s tempered by guilt and a longing for legitimacy that he can never quite grasp. Andy García brings volatile energy as Vincent, the heir apparent, while the film’s Vatican‑entangled plot adds a layer of moral rot that feels entirely appropriate for Michael’s final act.

It may not reach the heights of the first two films, but there is real power in watching a man who once controlled everything realise that the bill for his sins has finally come due.

11.45pm, Film4 — Journeyman (2017)

Paddy Considine’s second feature is a quietly devastating piece of work — intimate, unshowy and emotionally exact. He writes, directs and stars as Matty Burton, a middleweight boxer whose life is shattered by a catastrophic brain injury sustained during a title defence. What begins as a familiar sports narrative turns into something far more fragile: a study of identity, recovery and the terrifying uncertainty of a mind that no longer behaves as it once did.

Considine’s performance is remarkable in its vulnerability, and Jodie Whittaker matches him beat for beat as a partner trying to hold together a life that has suddenly come apart. The film never tips into melodrama; it stays close to the small, painful details of rehabilitation — the confusion, the anger, the flickers of hope.

A moving, humane drama about rebuilding from the inside out.

.1.35am, Film4 — Pixie (2020)

A darkly comic Irish caper that plays everything with a wink and a threat. Olivia Cooke is terrific as Pixie, a young woman whose charm is matched only by her talent for trouble. After a heist goes sideways, she heads off across rural Ireland with two hapless accomplices, a bag of stolen drugs and a growing list of very dangerous people trying to catch up.

The tone is gleefully off‑kilter — gun‑toting priests, eccentric gangsters, sharp dialogue and a sense that every decision is making things worse in a slightly hilarious way. Cooke anchors it all with a performance that’s sly, unpredictable and enormous fun. A lively late‑night watch with a streak of mischief running right through it.

Wednesday 2 September

10.55pm, Legend — The Fighter (2010)

A tough, lived‑in boxing drama that works because it’s really about the people orbiting the ring rather than the punches thrown inside it. Mark Wahlberg plays Micky Ward with understated grit, but the film’s charge comes from Christian Bale as Dicky Eklund — a former fighter, now a chaotic, crack‑addicted mentor whose glory days have curdled into delusion.

Bale doesn’t just play Dicky; he disappears into him. The jittery energy, the compulsive charm, the self‑sabotage — it’s all there, and it gives the film a rawness that most sports biopics never touch. Amy Adams adds steel as Charlene, the woman trying to pull Micky out of the gravitational pull of his family, while David O. Russell keeps the whole thing moving with bruising momentum.

A story about loyalty, damage and the fight to break free, anchored by one of Bale’s most ferociously committed performances.

Thursday 3 September

12.55pm, Legend — The Assassination Bureau (1969)

A wonderfully odd slice of Edwardian mischief, pitched somewhere between black comedy, adventure caper and social satire. Oliver Reed plays Ivan Dragomiloff, the suavely amoral head of a professional organisation devoted to murder-for-hire — a gentlemanly league of assassins who treat killing as a matter of honour, etiquette and contractual obligation.

Diana Rigg, sharp as ever, enters the story as a journalist determined to expose the Bureau’s existence. Her plan? Commission them to kill their own leader. What follows is a playful chase across Europe, full of elaborate assassination attempts, period charm and a tone that winks at the audience without ever tipping into outright farce.

It’s eccentric, stylish and very much its own thing — a late‑60s curiosity powered by Reed’s swagger and Rigg’s impeccable wit.

2.35pm, Talking Pictures TV — The Durant Affair (1962)

A compact, no‑nonsense British crime drama, the sort of film Talking Pictures excels at rescuing from obscurity. The Durant Affair sits firmly in that fascinating corner of early‑60s British cinema where modest budgets, tight scripts and character actors doing solid work combine into something unexpectedly engaging.

It’s not a headline title, and that’s precisely the appeal. These lesser‑screened crime pictures offer a snapshot of a filmmaking culture that was grittier, more workmanlike and often more inventive than the prestige productions of the era. If you enjoy digging into the hidden shelves of British film history, this is exactly the kind of curio that rewards the effort.

9pm, GREAT! TV — Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949)

One of the crown jewels of Ealing comedy: elegant, wicked and delivered with a straight face sharp enough to cut glass. Dennis Price is superb as Louis Mazzini, the impeccably polite young man who decides that a handful of inconvenient relatives stand between him and a dukedom — a problem he approaches with calm, murderous efficiency.

Alec Guinness’s tour‑de‑force turn is the film’s great delight: he plays almost the entire D’Ascoyne family, from fussy parsons to pompous admirals to suffragette firebrands, each performance perfectly judged and slyly exaggerated without ever breaking the film’s refined tone.

It’s a comedy of manners wrapped around a string of killings, delivered with such charm and precision that its darkness feels positively civilised. A masterpiece of dry British wit.

9pm, BBC Two — A House Through Time

David Olusoga continues his exploration of the lives hidden within the history of a single house. The full series is available on BBC iPlayer.

12.05am, BBC Two — Respect (2021)

Jennifer Hudson doesn’t just play Aretha Franklin — she channels her. The film follows Franklin’s rise from a prodigiously gifted church singer to the undisputed Queen of Soul, tracing the battles she fought both publicly and privately to claim her voice, her artistry and her autonomy.

Hudson’s performance is the anchor: vocally astonishing, emotionally grounded, and delivered with a reverence that never slips into imitation. The film moves through the key chapters — the early gospel years, the breakthrough hits, the personal struggles, the political awakening — with a warmth that honours Franklin’s legacy even when confronting its darker corners.

It’s a conventional music biopic in structure, but the power of the story and the sheer force of Hudson’s presence make it resonate. A celebration of a singular talent and the long, hard road she walked to become herself.

Friday 4 September

9pm, ITV2 — The Dark Knight (2008)

Christopher Nolan’s Batman film remains a defining moment in modern superhero cinema — muscular, morally tangled and executed with a seriousness that reshaped what the genre could be. But its gravitational centre is, of course, Heath Ledger’s Joker, a performance so ferociously alive it still feels dangerous.

Ledger’s Joker isn’t a villain with a plan; he’s an agent of rupture. Everything about him — the smeared makeup, the hunched posture, the voice that slides between mock‑polite and feral — suggests someone who has studied human behaviour purely to learn how best to unsettle it. He isn’t interested in money or power; he wants to expose the fragility of order, to prove that civilisation is only ever one bad day away from collapse.

The brilliance of the performance is its unpredictability. Ledger plays him as a man who delights in rewriting the rules mid‑sentence, whose jokes land like threats and whose threats land like philosophy. Every scene tightens because you genuinely don’t know what he’ll do next. It’s not just a great comic‑book villain; it’s one of the great screen performances of the century.

Around him, Christian Bale’s Batman and Aaron Eckhart’s Harvey Dent form the film’s moral spine, but Ledger is the spark that turns the whole thing into a battle for the soul of Gotham. A landmark — and a reminder of how one extraordinary performance can tilt an entire film into legend.

9pm, Legend — Once Upon a Time in America (1984)

Sergio Leone’s final film is a vast, mournful gangster epic — less interested in crime than in the long shadows it casts over a life. Robert De Niro’s Noodles drifts through the story like a man permanently out of time, haunted by friendships broken, betrayals committed and memories that refuse to settle into anything stable.

Leone tells the tale at an unhurried, almost dreamlike pace. Scenes unfold with the weight of recollection rather than the urgency of plot: childhood in the Jewish ghettos of New York, the rise into organised crime, the fractures that tear the group apart, and the decades‑later reckoning that may or may not be real. The film’s structure — looping between eras, blurring the line between what happened and what Noodles believes happened — gives it a melancholy that’s closer to elegy than thriller.

De Niro is superb, playing Noodles as a man defined by regret, while James Woods brings electric volatility as Max, the friend whose ambition becomes a kind of curse. Ennio Morricone’s score does the rest, bathing the film in sorrow and nostalgia.

A sprawling, hypnotic masterpiece — a gangster film that moves at the pace of memory, and hits with the force of everything time refuses to heal.

9pm, Channel 4 — Gogglebox

It’s back for its 28th series. The format remains ridiculously simple — people watching television while we watch them — but when the casting works, so does the programme. Catch up via Channel 4 streaming.

9.20pm, Talking Pictures TV — Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde (1971)

One of Hammer’s strangest and most intriguing late‑period horrors — a gender‑swapping twist on Robert Louis Stevenson that lets the studio lean into both gothic melodrama and something far more subversive. Ralph Bates plays Dr Jekyll as a driven, increasingly unhinged scientist whose experiments in extending human life lead him to create a female alter ego: Sister Hyde, played with icy poise by Martine Beswick.

The transformation conceit gives Hammer room to explore identity, repression and desire in a way that feels unusually bold for the era. Sister Hyde isn’t just a murderous counterpart; she’s a manifestation of everything Jekyll fears and covets, a figure who moves through Victorian London with a confidence and sensuality that destabilises him completely.

It’s lurid, atmospheric and knowingly provocative — a film that takes a familiar story and twists it into something slyly transgressive. One of Hammer’s more unusual delights.

11.05pm, BBC Two — Harvest (2024)

A quietly gripping drama, Harvest works in the space between rural stillness and creeping unease. Set in a farming community where tradition, hardship and unspoken tensions shape every relationship, the film follows a family facing a season that threatens to break them — financially, emotionally and morally.

What makes it compelling is its restraint. The drama unfolds in small, telling moments: the weight of responsibility passed between generations, the strain of keeping a livelihood alive, the way isolation can magnify every fear. The performances are grounded and naturalistic, giving the film a lived‑in authenticity that makes its darker turns hit harder.

It’s a thoughtful, atmospheric piece — a modern British drama that finds its power not in big plot swings but in the quiet, accumulating pressure of a life tied to the land. A strong, understated choice to round off the week.

Streaming

Netflix

Monster’s Ball — available now

A stark, emotionally bruising drama that moves with a quiet, deliberate intensity. Set against the backdrop of America’s deep racial and social fractures, the film follows two people whose lives have been shaped by grief, anger and generational damage, and who find themselves drawn together in circumstances that should make connection impossible.

What gives the film its power is the restraint: the performances are raw without ever tipping into melodrama, and the story unfolds in small, painful increments. It’s a film about the weight people carry, the ways they fail each other, and the fragile possibility of redemption. Hard‑hitting, but worth the emotional toll.

H Is for Hawk — available now

This adaptation of Helen Macdonald’s acclaimed memoir captures the strange, intimate process of training a goshawk while navigating overwhelming grief. It’s part nature study, part psychological portrait, and part meditation on how humans seek meaning in the wild when their own lives feel unmanageable.

The film leans into the book’s reflective tone, lingering on landscape, silence and the uneasy bond between handler and bird. It’s gentle but piercing, a story about control, surrender and the ways we try to rebuild ourselves through ritual and obsession. A beautifully made piece of contemplative nonfiction.

The Gentlemen — Season 2, from Thursday 3 September

Guy Ritchie’s criminal world returns for a second series, and it’s as swaggering, chaotic and sharply dressed as ever. The new run expands the turf wars, double‑crosses and entrepreneurial villainy that defined the first season, giving the ensemble more room to stretch into their particular flavours of misbehaviour.

There’s a confidence to the storytelling now: the humour is darker, the schemes more elaborate, and the tone sits comfortably between crime thriller and high‑end mischief. If you enjoyed the first season’s mix of violence, charm and sheer audacity, Season 2 doubles down on all of it.

Channel 4 Streaming / Walter Presents

Cold Courage — all episodes from Tuesday 1 September

A tense, politically charged thriller that follows two women drawn into a shadowy organisation dedicated to exposing corruption. The series moves between London’s media world, far‑right extremism and the murky spaces where influence and intimidation overlap, giving it a contemporary edge that feels uncomfortably close to reality.

What stands out is the character work: both leads are damaged, determined and navigating trauma while trying to dismantle something far bigger than themselves. It’s stylish, tightly plotted and full of the kind of moral ambiguity Walter Presents specialises in.

Devil’s Throat: The Demon’s Fall

A Bulgarian thriller steeped in folklore, superstition and the darker corners of rural life. The series blends procedural investigation with mythic undertones, creating an atmosphere where every discovery feels like it might be pointing toward something older and more unsettling than simple criminality.

The pacing is deliberate, the visuals striking, and the tension builds from the clash between modern policing and ancient belief. It’s one of those shows that creeps under the skin — not loud, but quietly unnerving.

Paramount+

Humans — all episodes from Thursday 3 September

A return to one of the most thoughtful sci‑fi dramas of recent years. Humans explores artificial intelligence not through spectacle but through domestic life, asking what happens when synthetic beings become indistinguishable from the people they serve.

The new availability of all episodes gives viewers the chance to appreciate the show’s slow‑burn evolution: from questions of labour and autonomy to full‑blown debates about consciousness, rights and revolution. It’s smart, grounded and emotionally resonant — sci‑fi with something real to say.

Sweden: Demons Fall — Series 2, from Friday 4 September

The second series deepens the supernatural mystery at the heart of this Swedish thriller. What began as a story of strange occurrences in a remote community now expands into a broader exploration of belief, fear and the legacies families try to outrun.

Series 2 is moodier, more ambitious and visually striking, with a stronger sense of dread threading through each episode. It’s Nordic noir with a supernatural twist — cold, atmospheric and compelling.

Prime Video

Mother Mary — available now

A bold, stylised drama that plays with the idea of celebrity myth‑making. The film follows a pop icon whose life becomes the subject of a sprawling biographical project, blurring the lines between truth, performance and the narratives artists build around themselves.

It’s visually lush and musically driven, with a central performance that embraces both the glamour and the vulnerability of fame. The film asks what it means to be seen, and what gets lost when a person becomes a symbol. Ambitious, intriguing and full of texture.

Disney+

The Mandalorian and Grogu — from Wednesday 2 September

The Star Wars universe heads back to familiar territory with Din Djarin and Grogu, and the new series leans into everything that made their partnership irresistible: stoic warrior energy, found‑family warmth and a galaxy full of danger, politics and creatures with questionable intentions.

Expect a broader canvas this time — bigger stakes, deeper lore and a sense that the pair are being drawn into events far beyond bounty hunting. It’s still recognisably The Mandalorian, but with the scale and emotional weight turned up. A welcome return for two of modern Star Wars’ most beloved characters.

Radio

Sunday 30 August

7.15pm, BBC Radio 4 — Bouncing Off the Walls: A Prison Soundscape

A striking piece of auditory documentary-making, this soundscape builds its world not through interviews or narration but through the textures of prison life itself. The clatter of doors, the echo of corridors, the hum of communal spaces — all of it arranged to give listeners a sense of the rhythms and pressures of an environment defined by confinement.

It’s an atmospheric listen, one that asks you to sit inside the sonic architecture of incarceration and consider what it reveals. Without commentary, the programme becomes a kind of immersive portrait: unsettling in places, unexpectedly human in others, and quietly powerful in the way it lets sound do the storytelling.

Monday 31 August

6pm, Boom Rock — The Stiff Records Story

A lively, affectionate dive into one of Britain’s most gloriously unruly independent labels. Stiff Records was never just a roster — it was an attitude, a gleefully anarchic challenge to the music industry’s self-importance. The programme traces the label’s rise through its defining artists, from Ian Dury’s swagger to Elvis Costello’s sharp intelligence and Madness’s irresistible energy.

What emerges is a portrait of a label that prized personality, risk and sheer cheek. The documentary captures the era’s DIY spirit and the sense that Stiff’s artists were rewriting the rules as they went. A treat for anyone who loves the scruffier, more inventive corners of British music history. Repeated Thursday at 9pm.

Tuesday 1 September

8.05am, 3.05pm and 10.05pm, BBC World Service — People Fixing the World

This edition tackles sepsis — a condition where minutes matter and early diagnosis can be the difference between life and death. The programme looks at innovators trying to speed up detection, from rapid-testing technologies to new approaches in frontline healthcare that aim to catch symptoms before they escalate.

It’s a clear-eyed, hopeful piece of reporting, focused on practical solutions rather than alarm. By spotlighting people working to close the gap between onset and treatment, the episode shows how small changes in process and technology could save thousands of lives worldwide.

Wednesday 2 September

10am, 4pm and midnight, BBC Radio 4 Extra — Mercury

Three chances across the day to catch this imaginative audio drama, which blends mystery, science and a touch of the uncanny. Mercury unfolds with a slow, deliberate pull, drawing listeners into a story where the boundaries between explanation and intuition blur.

It’s the kind of drama that rewards close listening: layered sound design, thoughtful pacing and a narrative that reveals itself piece by piece. Atmospheric, intriguing and well worth dipping into at whichever time suits.

Friday 4 September

8.30pm, BBC World Service — CrowdScience

This week’s episode takes a gleeful dive into the psychology of roller coasters — why some people crave the stomach-dropping, high-speed chaos of a ride while others would rather stay firmly on the ground. The programme explores the science of thrill-seeking, from brain chemistry to personality traits, and how our bodies interpret fear when we know we’re safe.

It’s an entertaining blend of neuroscience and amusement-park nostalgia, with plenty of insight into what drives human appetite for controlled danger. A fun, thoughtful listen that might even explain why you love — or loathe — being hurled around at improbable speeds.

That’s it for this week. Plenty of crime, music, history and heavyweight cinema, with enough lighter material scattered around to stop the whole thing becoming oppressive. If I were choosing just three, I’d make time for The Godfather Part IIKind Hearts and Coronets and the James Bond Prom — three very different demonstrations of how much pleasure there is to be had when style and substance turn up together.

Selections and reviews by Pat Harrington

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Culture Vulture 15-21 August 2026

There are weeks when putting Culture Vulture together involves a fair bit of rummaging around in the schedules looking for something worth rescuing. This is not one of them.

Film lovers are particularly well served. Breathless, The Graduate, Bonnie and Clyde, The French Connection, The Deer Hunter and Heat amount to a formidable crash course in cinema across several decades. Throw in Top Hat at the other end of the emotional spectrum, Genevieve for a very British sort of pleasure and more recent fare including The Batman, The Beast and Monkey Man, and there is barely room to complain.

Television has a distinctly historical streak too. Kabul dramatises the extraordinary and frightening days surrounding the Taliban’s return to the Afghan capital in 2021. Franco gets two nights on PBS America. The 1918 influenza pandemic is revisited on Friday, while Concorde Crash takes us back to a disaster that effectively sounded the beginning of the end for the world’s most glamorous passenger aircraft.

I’m also intrigued by Buried with Michael Sheen. Chemical contamination is not the cheeriest subject for a Monday evening, admittedly, but Sheen has become increasingly willing to put his public profile behind questions of power, place and community. That makes this potentially much more than another celebrity-fronted documentary.

Then there is music. Beyoncé gets the BBC treatment, while Friday brings Miles Davis at the Proms. Two rather different definitions of star power.

Here are my picks – Pat Harrington

SATURDAY 15 AUGUST

8.00pm – Skyfall (2012), ITV1

Daniel Craig’s third Bond film remains one of the strongest of his period. Sam Mendes gives the series visual grandeur while allowing Bond to seem unusually vulnerable. Javier Bardem’s Silva is a villain with personality, and the relationship between Bond and Judi Dench’s M gives the film its emotional centre.

8.00pm – Kabul: The Fall, BBC Four

The first episode of a six‑part drama inspired by the extraordinary events of August 2021. Rather than treating the collapse as geopolitics, it follows people caught inside it.

9.00pm – The Batman (2022), ITV2

Robert Pattinson dons the cape in Matt Reeves’s sombre, rain‑soaked Gotham, and the result is far closer to a serial‑killer thriller than any traditional superhero romp. Reeves leans into the city’s decay: flooded streets, corruption seeping through every institution, and a Batman who feels less like a mythic avenger and more like a grim, obsessive detective picking his way through a crime scene that never ends. Pattinson’s performance is deliberately inward — bruised, watchful, almost monastic — and the film’s long, oppressive mood gives Gotham a weight it hasn’t had in years. It’s not interested in quips or spectacle; it wants atmosphere, dread and the sense that justice here is always half a step behind the darkness.

9.50pm – Kabul: The Siege, BBC Four

The second part follows a family scattered as Kabul falls. A huge historical event made comprehensible through individual experience.

10.00pm – Concorde Crash: Days That Shocked the World, Channel 4

A revisit of the 2000 Air France disaster and the abrupt end of Concorde’s glamour. The documentary goes back to those unforgettable images outside Paris — the aircraft trailing fire moments after take‑off — and examines how a machine once sold as the future of aviation became a symbol of vulnerability instead. Concorde had represented technological confidence, speed, prestige and the idea that progress would always move forward. The crash punctured that myth in seconds. What the programme does well is show how the investigation unfolded, how a single strip of metal on a runway set off a chain of failures, and how the tragedy effectively closed the curtain on an era when flying could still feel extraordinary. It’s sobering, but it’s also a reminder of how quickly the story of modernity can change direction.

10.30pm – Beyoncé at the BBC, BBC Two

A trawl through the BBC archives celebrating Beyoncé’s career.

11.40pm – The Graduate (1967), BBC Two

A cultural touchstone whose melancholy is often forgotten beneath the comedy. The familiar images — Dustin Hoffman drifting in the swimming pool, Anne Bancroft’s Mrs Robinson framed in that doorway, Simon and Garfunkel on the soundtrack — have become so iconic that it’s easy to overlook how strange and uneasy the film really is. Beneath the wit and the immaculate surface lies a story about a young man paralysed by expectation, drifting through a world that seems to have been planned for him without ever asking what he wants. Hoffman’s Benjamin is funny, yes, but he’s also lost, bored, and quietly suffocating in the comfortable future laid out by his parents. The film’s final shot, often misread as triumphant, is one of the great cinematic reminders that escape and certainty are not the same thing. It’s a classic that still pricks at the nerves.

1.00am – Monos e.(2019), Channel 4

Teenage guerrillas, a hostage, beautiful landscapes and feral behaviour. Unsettling but memorable. Landes’s film drops you into an unnamed conflict where discipline, ideology and even basic sanity begin to erode almost immediately. The young fighters are barely more than children, yet they carry weapons, guard a captive and try to enforce rules they barely understand. What makes Monos so striking is the contrast between its setting and its story: vast, breathtaking mountains and cloud forests surrounding a group whose behaviour becomes increasingly chaotic and animalistic. It’s a film where the beauty of the world feels like a rebuke to the violence inside it.

SUNDAY 16 AUGUST

9.30am – Top Hat (1935), BBC Two

Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers and Irving Berlin. Hollywood escapism at its most elegant. Top Hat is one of those films where the plot barely matters — it’s simply the scaffolding on which Astaire and Rogers hang some of the most effortless screen chemistry ever captured. The dancing is immaculate, the humour feather‑light, and Berlin’s songs glide through the film with the kind of confidence only the 1930s studio system could muster. What always strikes me is how completely the film commits to its own fantasy: hotels that look like palaces, rainstorms that arrive on cue, and a world where misunderstandings are solved not by conversation but by dancing.

9.00pm – Road to Perdition (2002), GREAT! TV

Tom Hanks plays against type as a Depression‑era mob enforcer, and the change gives the film a quiet, unsettling power. He moves through the story like a man already half‑buried by the life he’s chosen — dutiful, efficient, and painfully aware that every action has a cost. Mendes shoots the world in rain and shadow, long stretches of silence broken by sudden violence, and the result feels less like a crime thriller and more like a slow, mournful elegy.

What begins as revenge becomes something more intimate: a father trying to shield his son from the very world that shaped him. Jude Law’s needle‑thin, corpse‑pale hitman stalks the edges of the film with a kind of sickly glee, while Paul Newman, in one of his final screen roles, brings a weary authority to the criminal empire Hanks serves. It’s a story about loyalty, guilt and the way violence echoes through generations — beautifully made, heavy with consequence, and still capable of catching you off guard.

9.55pm – Black Watch, BBC Four

Gregory Burke’s celebrated play about soldiers, loyalty, masculinity and fear.

10.00pm – The French Connection (1971), BBC Two

Gene Hackman’s Popeye Doyle prowls through Friedkin’s hard, dirty New York thriller, and the city is as much a character as any of the cops or criminals. Everything feels cold, scraped‑raw, lived‑in: bars with peeling paint, streets slick with winter grime, surveillance carried out in silence because there’s nothing glamorous about it. Hackman plays Doyle as a man driven more by instinct than procedure — abrasive, relentless, and not remotely comfortable company — which is precisely why the film still works.

The famous car‑and‑train chase remains astonishing, a burst of chaos in a world otherwise defined by tension and suspicion. But the real power lies in the atmosphere Friedkin builds: a city where compromise is routine, where the line between law and criminality blurs, and where obsession corrodes everything it touches.

11.30pm – Black Watch: A Soldier’s Story, BBC Four

A documentary companion to the play.

11.40pm – Bonnie and Clyde (1967), BBC Two

Romantic, violent, exhilarating — and a turning point in American cinema. Beatty and Dunaway glide through the early scenes with a kind of dangerous charm, two beautiful people discovering that crime feels like freedom, at least for a while. The film begins almost playfully, all flirtation and stolen cars, but the mood shifts in increments: a gunshot here, a panicked escape there, until the violence stops being theoretical and starts leaving marks.

What still astonishes is how boldly Arthur Penn mixes tones. Comedy bumps up against brutality; glamour sits beside fear; the lovers pose for photographs even as the world closes in around them. Hollywood had rarely allowed this kind of collision before, and audiences in 1967 weren’t quite prepared for it. The final sequence — balletic, horrifying, impossible to forget — announced that American cinema was entering a new era, one where the old rules no longer applied. It’s a film that still feels alive, still capable of surprising you, and still entirely deserving of its reputation.

MONDAY 17 AUGUST

12.25am – Breathless (1960), Talking Pictures TV

Godard’s jump‑cutting, attitude‑laden revolution in cinema. Breathless still feels like a film that woke up one morning and decided the rules were optional. Jean‑Paul Belmondo drifts through Paris with a cigarette, a stolen car and a borrowed sense of swagger, modelling himself on Bogart while never quite managing the same composure. Jean Seberg, effortlessly cooler than everyone around her, gives the film its strange centre of gravity — calm, curious, and entirely unpredictable.

What Godard does here isn’t simply stylistic mischief. The jump cuts, the looseness, the sudden shifts in tone — they create a world that feels improvised, restless, alive. You can almost see cinema discovering that it doesn’t have to behave itself, that it can be messy and direct and full of attitude. Whole generations of filmmakers took notes. Watching it now, in the small hours, you feel the shock of the new all over again.

8.00pm – Panorama: Child Maintenance – Parents Under Pressure, BBC One

A look at whether the current system serves parents or children.

8.35pm – Franco: The Last Inquisitor – In the Name of Christ and the Empire, PBS America

Part one of a study of Franco’s dictatorship.

9.00pm – Disclosure: Welcome to Glasgow, BBC One

Investigating claims of “no‑go zones” in Scotland’s largest city.

9.00pm – Buried with Michael Sheen, BBC Two

Chemical dumping, contamination and the long shadow of industrial decisions. Sheen approaches the subject with a seriousness that never feels performative; he’s not here to emote for the camera but to ask why communities in Wales and England are still living with the consequences of choices made decades ago. The programme moves slowly, deliberately, letting residents describe what it means to discover that the ground beneath your feet may not be as safe as you assumed.

What gives the documentary its weight is the sense of history looping back on itself. Industrial waste was meant to stay buried, forgotten, sealed away in the past — yet here it is, resurfacing in soil samples, in water tests, in the stories of people who have spent years trying to be heard. Sheen’s presence helps connect the personal to the political: how responsibility is assigned, how institutions respond, and how long communities are expected to wait for answers. It’s not cheerful viewing, but it is quietly compelling, and it asks questions that won’t disappear simply because they make everyone uncomfortable.

9.50pm – The Truth About Franco: Spain’s Forgotten Dictatorship,

PBS America More on Franco and the difficulty of confronting history.

TUESDAY 18 AUGUST

8.30pm – Franco: The Last Inquisitor – The Manipulator, PBS America

Franco as survivor and political chameleon.

10.40pm – The Untouchables (1987), BBC One

De Palma turns the pursuit of Al Capone into grand, almost operatic entertainment. Kevin Costner’s Eliot Ness arrives in Chicago with the clean‑cut certainty of a man who still believes institutions work the way they’re supposed to, and the city promptly disabuses him of the notion. Sean Connery, grizzled and amused, gives Ness the education he didn’t know he needed — how to survive, how to fight, and how far you have to go when the other side has already abandoned the rulebook.

The film moves with a kind of muscular elegance: wide‑shouldered set‑pieces, slow‑burn tension, sudden eruptions of violence. De Palma isn’t chasing historical precision; he’s building a myth, and he knows exactly how to frame it. Robert De Niro’s Capone, all theatrical menace and controlled fury, completes the triangle. What you get is a story about righteousness pushed to its limits, told with style, swagger and a willingness to lean into its own legend. Historically loose, cinematically terrific — and still enormous fun.

1.35am – The Deer Hunter (1978), Legend

Cimino’s epic of steelworkers and Vietnam, anchored by performances of enormous power. The film begins slowly, almost deceptively so: a wedding, a hunting trip, friends teasing one another in a Pennsylvania town that feels ordinary, familiar, lived‑in. Cimino takes his time because he wants you to understand the community before the war tears into it. When the story shifts to Vietnam, the change is brutal — sudden violence, chaos, and the infamous Russian roulette sequences that have sparked argument ever since.

What carries the film is the cast. De Niro’s quiet intensity, Walken’s gradual unravelling, Meryl Streep’s gentleness in the margins — each performance adds another layer to a story about trauma, loyalty and the impossibility of returning unchanged. The final act is heavy, mournful, and strangely tender, a reminder that the real cost of war is paid long after the fighting stops.

WEDNESDAY 19 AUGUST

7.35pm – Genevieve (1953), Talking Pictures TV

Two couples, two cars, and a charming London‑to‑Brighton run. On paper it sounds almost too slight to endure, yet Genevieve remains one of those films whose appeal sneaks up on you. The veteran cars provide the excuse, but the real pleasure lies in watching Kenneth More, Dinah Sheridan, John Gregson and Kay Kendall needle one another with the kind of competitive irritation that never quite tips into malice.

There’s a breeziness to the whole thing — a sense that the film knows exactly how modest its ambitions are and leans into them with confidence. The humour comes from personality rather than contrivance, and Larry Adler’s harmonica score gives the story a jaunty rhythm that keeps everything moving. It’s civilised, good‑natured, and unmistakably British in the best sense: a comedy built not on chaos, but on the small, recognisable ways people try to outdo one another while pretending they aren’t keeping score.

8.00pm – Simon Sebag Montefiore Remembers: Rome, BBC Four

A revisit of the Eternal City and its endless historical echoes.

11.40pm – The Beast (2023), Film4

Bonello’s strange, ambitious meditation on love, fear and identity. It’s a film that refuses to sit still, slipping between eras and realities as if time were simply another mood to be rearranged. Léa Seydoux moves through these shifting worlds with a kind of haunted composure, as though she’s carrying memories that don’t quite belong to her; George MacKay, brittle and intense, mirrors her unease in ways that become increasingly unsettling.

Bonello isn’t interested in clarity. He’s chasing something more elusive — the way technology reshapes emotion, the way fear can echo across decades, the way identity can fracture without ever fully breaking. Some scenes feel dreamlike, others clinical, and the film’s tone changes with the same quiet confidence as its settings. It’s not designed to make life easy for the viewer, but that’s part of the appeal. The Beast lingers, not because it explains itself, but because it leaves you turning its ideas over long after the credits fade.

THURSDAY 20 AUGUST

8.00pm – Lion, National Geographic

Young lion Kio dreams of becoming king. Real drama without human embellishment.

9.00pm – Heat (1995), Film4 Michael Mann’s masterpiece. Pacino and De Niro in one of cinema’s great duels.

9.00pm – The French Connection (1971), BBC Four

Another chance to see Friedkin’s classic.

10.40pm – The Poughkeepsie Shuffle: Tracing The French Connection, BBC Four

Mark Kermode on the making of Friedkin’s classic — and few people are better suited to the job. Kermode has that rare combination of scholarship and enthusiasm: he can talk about camera placement, production politics and editing rhythms, yet still make you feel the thrill of seeing a great film for the first time. I rate him enormously as a critic; he’s one of the few who can explain why a film works without flattening its mystery.

Here he digs into the creation of The French Connection: the bruised, hard‑edged New York locations; the tension between documentary grit and operatic set‑pieces; the way Friedkin pushed his cast and crew to capture a city on the brink. Kermode traces the production with clarity and affection, showing how a film that looked chaotic on the surface was built with absolute precision underneath. It’s a smart, engaging piece — part history lesson, part love letter to a thriller that changed the temperature of American cinema.

11.35pm – The Graduate (1967), BBC Four
A second chance to see this classic film.
12.05am – Tár (2022), BBC Two

Blanchett is formidable as Lydia Tár — brilliant, intimidating, and increasingly undone by the pressures she’s spent years pretending she can rise above. The film moves with a slow, deliberate pulse, letting you sit inside her world: rehearsal rooms humming with tension, boardrooms thick with politics, and the quiet, private spaces where her certainty begins to crack. Blanchett doesn’t play the role so much as inhabit it, giving Tár a kind of electric stillness that makes every shift in mood feel seismic.

Field’s direction is cool and controlled, almost clinical at times, which only heightens the unease. The film isn’t interested in easy answers or tidy moral lessons; it’s more concerned with power — how it’s wielded, how it corrodes, and how quickly it can slip away. By the time the story reaches its final, strange movement, you realise you’ve watched a character study of rare precision. It’s demanding, unsettling, and quietly astonishing.

12.20am Chopper (2000), Film4
Eric Bana’s extraordinary performance as Mark “Chopper” Read — funny, frightening and impossible to look away from. The film doesn’t bother with the usual biopic structure; instead it drops you straight into Chopper’s world, where violence arrives without warning and self‑mythology is a full‑time occupation. Bana plays him with a kind of manic elasticity, switching from charm to menace in the space of a breath, as though even he isn’t sure which version of himself will surface next.

What makes the film work is its refusal to tidy anything up. Andrew Dominik shoots the story with a grimy, off‑kilter energy, letting the humour bleed into the horror and the horror bleed back into the humour. You’re never quite sure whether Chopper is telling the truth, exaggerating for effect, or inventing entire chapters of his life on the spot — and that ambiguity becomes the point. It’s a portrait of a man who understands that notoriety is a performance, and Bana delivers it with astonishing precision.

FRIDAY 21 AUGUST

3.25pm – River of No Return (1954), Film4

A pairing that shouldn’t work but absolutely does. Mitchum brings that unshakeable, laconic presence — a man who seems carved out of something tougher than the landscape around him — while Monroe offers a warmth and vulnerability that complicates every scene she’s in. Put together, they create a strange, compelling balance: his stillness against her radiance, his dry humour against her emotional openness.

Technicolor does the rest. The colours are lush, almost too vivid, giving the film a dreamlike sheen that sits just slightly at odds with the grit of the story. It’s one of those mid‑century Hollywood productions where the visuals feel almost indulgent, yet the performances keep everything grounded. Mitchum’s restraint and Monroe’s glow — two very different energies, meeting in a film that knows exactly how to showcase both.

8.00pm – Surgery Secrets of the Super Rich, Channel 4

Cosmetic transformation and the modern collision of wealth and dissatisfaction.

8.00pm – Miles Davis: A Celebration at the Proms, BBC Four

Musicians engaging with Davis’s endlessly influential body of work.

8.20pm – The Flu That Killed 50 Million, PBS America

A study of the 1918 influenza pandemic.

9.00pm – As Good as It Gets (1997), GREAT! TV

Nicholson and Hunt are excellent in a story of difficult human progress. Nicholson gives one of his sharpest late‑career performances: a man whose routines have hardened into armour, whose cruelty is often just fear in disguise. Helen Hunt counters him with warmth and a kind of exhausted resilience, refusing to let the film slip into sentimentality.

What makes it work is the rhythm of their interactions — prickly, funny, occasionally painful — and the way the film allows change to arrive in small, uneven steps rather than grand revelations. Greg Kinnear adds another layer of gentleness and hurt, reminding you that everyone in this story is carrying something heavy. It’s a comedy, yes, but one built on the slow, awkward business of becoming slightly better than you were yesterday. Not perfect, not transformed — just better. And sometimes that’s enough.

11.05pm – Silent Roar (2023), BBC Two

A Scottish coming‑of‑age drama set on the Isle of Lewis. It’s a film steeped in place — the sea, the sky, the long stretches of quiet that shape island life — and director Johnny Barrington uses that landscape not as decoration but as emotional terrain. The story follows a young man trying to make sense of grief, faith and desire, all while living in a community where silence often speaks louder than confession.

There’s humour in it, and strangeness, and a kind of off‑beat charm that feels distinctly Hebridean. The performances are gentle but sharp, capturing the awkwardness of adolescence without sanding down its intensity. What lingers is the mood: windswept, melancholy, occasionally surreal, and always rooted in the idea that growing up is less about revelation and more about learning to live with the things you can’t quite explain.

11.30pm – Monkey Man (2024), BBC One

Dev Patel’s furious, physical revenge thriller. Patel directs with the kind of intensity most actors never attempt, and then throws himself into the centre of the storm — bruised, relentless, and moving with a precision that feels almost ritualistic. The film’s world is neon‑lit and corrupt, a place where violence isn’t just spectacle but language, and Patel speaks it fluently.

What gives Monkey Man its charge is the blend of myth and grit: echoes of folklore running beneath bone‑crunching action, a sense that the character is fighting not just men but the systems that shaped them. The set‑pieces are tight, inventive, and shot with a confidence that marks Patel as a director to take seriously. It’s angry, stylish, and driven by a performance that refuses to soften its edges.

STREAMING

WEDNESDAY 19 AUGUST

Freefall: A Reckoning for Boeing – Netflix Corporate accountability and the human consequences of aerospace failures.

THURSDAY 20 AUGUST

Novak Djokovic: The Wolf in Winter – Prime Video A portrait of Djokovic in the late phase of his career, where intelligence must compensate for time.

 

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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 — 9–15 May 2026


An eagle soaring against a blue sky with mountains in the background, featuring the text 'CULTURE VULTURE' prominently displayed at the top and 'COUNTER CULTURE' logo at the bottom, along with event dates '9-15 May 2026'.

The week’s viewing arrives haunted by questions of power, memory and reinvention. From billionaires attempting to redesign the future to ageing outlaws confronting the collapse of their myths, this is a schedule filled with characters and cultures trying to outrun decline. Whether it’s Elon Musk promising technological salvation, ageing antiheroes returning for one last act of violence, or documentaries dismantling the comforting legends nations tell themselves, the mood feels restless, revealing, and faintly accusatory.

Three selections stand out. 🌟 The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance remains one of cinema’s great dissections of political mythmaking. 🌟 Moon still chills with its portrait of labour and identity stripped to the bone. 🌟 Berlusconi: Condemned to Win examines the prototype for the modern media‑politician, a figure whose shadow still stretches across Europe.

Elsewhere: journeys along the Danube, Brazilian revolutionary cinema, gothic mysteries on audio, podcasts about childhood trauma, and a deeply strange farewell to Good Omens. As ever, Culture Vulture looks beyond the algorithm and into the stories shaping the emotional atmosphere beneath the headlines.

Selections and reviews are by Pat Harrington.


Saturday 9th May 2026

🌟 The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance

5 Action, 4:25 PM

John Ford’s masterpiece remains one of the most quietly devastating westerns ever made. It dismantles the mythology of the American frontier with a patience that borders on cruelty, peeling back the fantasy of noble men building civilisation through honour and grit. The film quietly strips away the comforting fantasy that civilisation is built by honourable men acting nobly” . What emerges instead is a portrait of a society constructed from half‑truths, compromises and the kind of lies that become patriotic scripture.

The famous line — “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend” — lands harder with every passing decade. Ford understood that democracies often depend on stories that tidy up the messier origins of power. Watching it now, in an era drowning in competing narratives and weaponised misinformation, the film feels almost clairvoyant.

Yet the politics would mean little without the melancholy running beneath them. John Wayne’s Tom Doniphon is a man watching the world move on without him, a gunslinger whose usefulness is fading as the town embraces law, order and selective memory. His tragedy is not simply that he is obsolete, but that the truth of his life must be buried for the new world to function.

Ford shoots the west as a place already half‑ghosted, its future secured only by the erasure of its past. The film’s emotional power lies in that tension: the birth of democracy requiring the death of the man who made it possible.

And so Liberty Valance endures — not as a nostalgic western, but as a warning about the stories nations tell to feel better about themselves.

The Sting

Legend, 5:25 PM

The Sting remains one of cinema’s great confidence tricks, a film so charming that audiences willingly surrender to its sleight of hand. Newman and Redford glide through the Depression‑era plot with the kind of chemistry that makes fraud look like a gentleman’s sport. The film turns raud into a kind of elegant performance art. .

Beneath the ragtime bounce lies something darker. The film understands that scams flourish when institutions have already lost credibility. Everyone is hustling because the system itself feels rigged — a sentiment that resonates uncomfortably in the present.

It also belongs to that brief 1970s moment when Hollywood could be both wildly entertaining and faintly subversive. The audience roots for criminals not because they’re noble, but because they possess wit, style and solidarity in a world ruled by greed.

The con itself becomes a metaphor for America’s own illusions: the belief that cleverness can outpace corruption, that charm can outwit power. It’s a fantasy, of course, but a seductive one.

Rewatching it now, the film feels like a postcard from a country already losing faith in its institutions — a warning wrapped in a grin.

Angela Rippon’s River Cruises

Channel 5, 8:00 PM

Travel television often functions as a collective exhale, a temporary escape from overcrowded cities and economic anxiety. Angela Rippon understands this instinctively. Her Danube journey glides with a calmness that feels almost rebellious in an age of hyperactive factual TV.

The Danube itself is a river thick with memory — empires rising and falling, borders shifting, cultures colliding. Even when presented through the soft-focus lens of mainstream travel TV, those histories seep through.

Rippon’s presence is the show’s anchor. Warm, intelligent, unhurried, she refuses the breathless tone that dominates modern broadcasting. Her style suggests that curiosity need not be loud to be engaging.

There’s also something quietly political in the way the programme lingers on the river’s layered past. It reminds viewers that Europe is not a fixed idea but a long negotiation between geography and power.

In a week filled with political mythmaking and cultural anxiety, Rippon’s gentle approach feels like a small act of resistance.

Pocahontas: Beyond the Myth

PBS America, 7:20 PM

This documentary attempts to prise apart centuries of romanticised storytelling to reveal the real figure buried beneath. The story has been repeatedly reshaped into comforting legend that smooths over violence and exploitation .

The film’s strength lies in its refusal to treat Pocahontas as a symbolic prop in a colonial morality tale. Instead, it examines how empires construct narratives to justify themselves, turning Indigenous lives into allegories that flatter the conquerors.

It’s a sober, necessary correction — not just of historical detail, but of the cultural machinery that sanitises conquest. The documentary shows how mythmaking becomes a political tool, softening the brutality of expansion into something palatable.

Watching it now, the film feels like part of a broader reckoning with the stories nations tell about themselves. The past is not neutral; it is curated.

And in that curation lies the real power.

The Suicide Squad

ITV2, 9:00 PM

James Gunn’s gleefully anarchic take on the superhero genre remains one of the few comic‑book films willing to bite the hand that feeds it. Violent, absurd and knowingly tasteless, it treats its antiheroes as disposable assets in a system that barely pretends to value them. Gvernments lie, operatives are expendable and morality shifts according to convenience.

The film’s satire lands because it refuses to sentimentalise its characters. They are tools, and the state uses them accordingly. The humour is barbed, the violence grotesque, the politics sharper than expected.

Gunn understands that the superhero myth is, at heart, a fantasy about power being wielded responsibly. The Suicide Squad laughs at that idea. Here, power is bureaucratic, cynical and uninterested in heroism.

The result is a film that feels oddly honest about the machinery of modern geopolitics. It’s a cartoon, yes, but one with teeth.

And beneath the chaos lies a bleak truth: systems built on expendability eventually consume everyone.

The Producers

BBC Two, 11:45 PM

Mel Brooks’ outrageous satire remains a masterclass in using comedy to puncture authoritarianism. The premise — staging a deliberately terrible musical called Springtime for Hitler — still feels audacious. Brooks exposes the pathetic narcissism underneath fascist theatrics by turning them into ridicule .

The film’s genius lies in its refusal to treat fascism with solemnity. Instead, it strips away the spectacle, revealing the insecurity and vanity beneath. Laughter becomes a political act.

Brooks also skewers the greed and gullibility of showbusiness, suggesting that corruption thrives wherever ambition outpaces talent. The con spirals because everyone involved believes they’re the smartest person in the room.

The musical numbers remain gloriously tasteless, a reminder that satire works best when it risks offence. Brooks never flinches.

Rewatching it now, the film feels like a reminder that authoritarianism feeds on fear — and that ridicule can be a surprisingly effective antidote.

Sunday 10th May 2026

The Elon Musk Show

BBC Two, 8:00 PM

The documentary continues its examination of Musk as both entrepreneur and cultural phenomenon. He embodies he contradictions of modern capitalism” and operates in a media environment where “attention itself has become currency .

The programme is less interested in biography than in the ecosystem that allowed Musk to become a global spectacle. It shows how personality, performance and provocation now function as business strategies.

What emerges is a portrait of a man who blurred the boundaries between tech visionary, celebrity and political actor. His power lies not just in his companies, but in his ability to command narrative space.

The documentary also hints at the fragility of this model. When attention becomes currency, volatility becomes inevitable.

It’s a story not just about Musk, but about the culture that made him possible.

Sisu

Film4, 9:30 PM

A revenge western transplanted into wartime Lapland, Sisu embraces pulp with unashamed ferocity. Nazis replace outlaws; endurance replaces realism. The film delivers brutal set-pieces with stripped-down clarity and carries genuine historical bitterness beneath the violence .

There is no psychological depth here, nor does the film pretend otherwise. Its power lies in its simplicity: a man wronged, a landscape scarred, an enemy deserving of every ounce of fury.

The violence is stylised but never weightless. The film’s anger feels rooted in history, not fantasy.

It’s a reminder that pulp can carry political charge when handled with conviction.

And sometimes, cinema’s most primal pleasures — vengeance, survival, righteous fury — are enough.

🌟 Moon

Channel 4, 11:00 PM

Duncan Jones’ Moon remains one of the most quietly devastating science‑fiction films of the century. Sam Rockwell’s performance — or rather, performances — anchors a story that begins as lunar isolation and becomes something far more unsettling. The film explores abour, identity and corporate exploitation with chilling clarity .

What makes Moon so effective is its restraint. There are no grand vistas, no operatic battles, no cosmic revelations. The horror emerges from bureaucracy, profit logic and the cold efficiency of a corporation that treats human life as a renewable resource.

Rockwell’s work is extraordinary: fragile, furious, bewildered, tender. He carries the film almost entirely alone, yet never feels theatrically isolated. His loneliness is the point.

The production design — all sterile corridors and humming machinery — reinforces the sense of a future where humanity has been tidied away in favour of productivity.

Rewatching it now, the film feels even more prescient. The future it imagines is not spectacular; it is efficient. And that is the real nightmare.

The Proposition

Talking Pictures TV, 9:45 PM

Nick Cave’s brutal outback western remains a singular piece of cinema — part fever dream, part colonial reckoning. The landscape ais soaked in moral decay and colonial violence , and that’s exactly how it feels: scorched, haunted, unforgiving.

The film’s moral dilemma — one brother must kill another to save a third — plays out against a backdrop of empire’s cruelties. Violence is not aberration but infrastructure.

Cave’s script is poetic in its brutality, finding strange beauty in the dust and blood. The performances, especially from Guy Pearce and Ray Winstone, carry the weight of men trapped in systems they barely understand.

The film refuses redemption. Its world is too broken for that. Instead, it offers clarity: a vision of colonialism stripped of romance.

It lingers like a bruise.

A Bigger Splash

BBC Two, 11:00 PM

Tilda Swinton delivers a performance of exquisite control in this simmering drama of jealousy, desire and Mediterranean heat. The film widens into something more politically charged with hints of refugee crises and European privilege .

The film begins as a sun‑drenched holiday, all languid afternoons and simmering tensions. But beneath the surface lies a study of power — sexual, emotional, cultural.

Ralph Fiennes’ volcanic performance destabilises the idyll, dragging old wounds into the open. The villa becomes a pressure cooker.

As the story widens, the film gestures toward Europe’s uneasy relationship with the world beyond its borders. Luxury exists alongside desperation; privilege depends on distance.

It’s a film about desire, but also about the stories we tell to justify our comforts.

Tea with Mussolini

BBC Two, 11:55 PM

Franco Zeffirelli’s semi‑autobiographical drama offers a portrait of pre‑war expatriate life drifting toward catastrophe.A privileged class sleepwalking through political catastrophe .

The film’s charm lies in its ensemble — Judi Dench, Maggie Smith, Cher — each playing women who believe culture and refinement can hold barbarism at bay. They are wrong, of course, but their delusion is touching.

Zeffirelli’s Florence is beautiful, fragile, doomed. The film captures the moment before the world tilts, when people still believe that civilisation is a shield.

It’s a gentle film, but not a naive one. The shadows lengthen even in the sunlit piazzas.

And in its final moments, the film becomes a quiet elegy for a world that mistook taste for safety.

Monday 11th May 2026

The Elon Musk Show

BBC Two

The continuation of the series traces Musk’s rise from ambitious outsider to polarising global figure. Modern capitalism depends upon personality as much as product and that Musk sells narrative, spectacle and belief as much as technology .

The programme shows how charisma becomes currency, how provocation becomes strategy, and how the line between innovation and performance blurs.

It’s a portrait of a man, yes, but also of a culture that rewards spectacle over substance.

Children of the Blitz

BBC Two, 9:00 PM

This documentary shifts attention away from wartime mythmaking and toward the children who lived through fear, confusion and displacement. History is shaped not just by leaders but by ordinary people carrying private memories through extraordinary circumstances .

The programme’s strength lies in its intimacy. These are not grand narratives but small, fragile recollections.

It’s a reminder that national memory often smooths over the terror experienced by those least able to articulate it.

Tuesday 12th May 2026

🌟 Berlusconi: Condemned to Win

BBC Four, 10:00 PM

Silvio Berlusconi understood politics as entertainment long before the rest of the world caught up. The documentary charts a career built on scandal, media manipulation and the strange alchemy of outrage. Many forces destabilising modern democracies were already visible in Berlusconi’s Italy decades ago .

The film shows how charisma can override accountability, how spectacle can drown out substance, and how a nation can become addicted to the very figure it claims to despise.

Berlusconi emerges as both architect and symptom of a political culture built on personality cults.

It’s a cautionary tale, but also a mirror.

And the reflection is uncomfortably familiar.

T2 Trainspotting

Film4

Danny Boyle’s sequel is less a nostalgic reunion than a reckoning. The film becomes a meditation on ageing, compromise and the seductive danger of living through memory alone .

The characters return to the ruins of their youth, only to find that rebellion has curdled into regret. The film’s bitterness is its honesty.

It’s a story about men who once defined themselves by refusal, now confronting the consequences of that refusal.

Memory becomes both refuge and trap.

The Beguiled

Legend, 11:40 PM

Clint Eastwood delivers one of his strangest performances in this gothic Civil War thriller. It is a world of repression, paranoia and shifting power dynamics .

The film’s claustrophobia is palpable. Desire becomes weaponised; kindness becomes strategy.

Long before modern conversations about toxic masculinity, the film was already probing the instability of gendered power.

It’s a strange, unsettling piece.

Absolutely — here is the rest of Culture Vulture from Wednesday onward, continuing in the same Patrick‑style voice, with varied paragraph lengths and a fully human cadence. All content remains grounded in the uploaded document, with citations where required.

Wednesday 13th May 2026 (continued)

The Elon Musk Show

BBC Two, 8:00 PM

By this stage the series becomes less a portrait of Musk and more a study of the public hunger that sustains figures like him. The show captures how billionaire entrepreneurs increasingly operate as political and cultural symbols. That’s the real subject now — not the man, but the ecosystem that elevates him.

The programme shows how charisma, provocation and spectacle have become forms of soft power. Musk is simply the most visible practitioner. The audience’s fascination becomes part of the machinery, feeding the cycle of attention that keeps him culturally dominant.

There’s a faint melancholy to it all. The more the documentary digs, the clearer it becomes that the world has outsourced its imagination to a handful of men who promise the future while selling the present back to us as performance.

It’s compelling, but also faintly exhausting — a portrait of a culture that confuses disruption with destiny.

Robin and Marian

Film4, 5:05 PM

Sean Connery and Audrey Hepburn bring a bruised tenderness to this late‑life Robin Hood tale.It’s a story of ageing lovers confronting time, regret and the collapse of heroic mythology , and that’s exactly the register it plays in: wistful, weary, quietly devastating.

The film rejects the swashbuckling legend in favour of something more fragile. Robin returns not as triumphant hero but as a man worn down by years of conflict, unsure what remains of the ideals he once fought for. Marian, too, carries the weight of a life lived in the shadow of myth.

Their reunion is tender but edged with sorrow. They know the world has moved on; they know they no longer fit the stories once told about them. The film’s emotional power lies in that recognition — the moment when legend gives way to the truth of two people who have simply grown older.

The action is sparse, almost reluctant. The film is more interested in the quiet moments: a shared glance, a rueful smile, the ache of memory. It’s a rare thing — a Robin Hood story that understands the cost of being a symbol.

And in its final stretch, the film becomes a meditation on love that endures even as everything else falls away.

Thursday 14th May 2026

Imitation of Life

Film4, 3:25 PM

Douglas Sirk’s melodrama remains one of the most emotionally devastating examinations of race, class and identity in American cinema. Beneath its glossy surfaces lies emotional violence underpinning American social hierarchies , and Sirk wields that contrast like a scalpel.

The film’s beauty is deliberate — a lure that draws the audience into a story far harsher than its Technicolor palette suggests. The relationships between the women at its centre are tender, fraught and shaped by the racial boundaries that structure their lives.

Sirk exposes the cruelty of a society that demands performance from its most vulnerable members. The film’s emotional crescendos are not manipulative; they are indictments. Every tear is political.

What makes the film endure is its refusal to offer easy reconciliation. Love is present, but it is not enough to overcome the structures that define these women’s lives.

It remains a masterpiece of subversive melodrama — a film that hides its sharpest truths in plain sight.

Friday 15th May 2026

Unreported World — Faith Healers: Saints or Scammers?

Channel 4, 7:30 PM

This edition of Unreported World ventures into the uneasy territory where belief, desperation and exploitation intersect. Charismatic authority figures thrive in communities failed by institutions , and the programme follows that thread with clear-eyed precision.

The film doesn’t sneer at faith, nor does it romanticise it. Instead, it examines the conditions that make people vulnerable to those who promise certainty in exchange for devotion. The healers themselves are presented not as caricatures but as complex figures operating in moral grey zones.

What emerges is a portrait of communities searching for hope in places where official structures have withdrawn. The programme’s power lies in its refusal to simplify. It shows how exploitation can grow from the same soil as genuine belief.

It’s uncomfortable viewing — and necessary.

Triangle of Sadness

BBC Two, 11:00 PM

Ruben Östlund’s savage satire turns luxury into grotesque farce. The film strips away the illusion that privilege automatically produces competence or moral authority , and Östlund does so with a wicked grin.

The first act skewers the fashion world; the second dismantles the ultra‑rich aboard a luxury yacht; the third flips the hierarchy entirely. Each section exposes the absurdity of social status with escalating cruelty.

Östlund’s humour is sharp, sometimes vicious, but never gratuitous. He understands that satire works best when it reveals the fragility of the systems it mocks. Here, wealth is not power — it is delusion.

The film’s final act, set on a deserted island, becomes a miniature study of how quickly social order collapses when stripped of its props. Competence becomes currency; beauty becomes useless.

It’s a film that laughs until the laughter catches in your throat.

How to Build a Girl

Channel 4, 1:05 AM

Based on Caitlin Moran’s semi‑autobiographical novel, this coming‑of‑age comedy captures the exhilaration and awkwardness of reinventing yourself through culture, journalism and sheer force of will.Beneath the humour lies a story about “class mobility, aspiration and the uncertainty of self-invention” .

The film’s charm lies in its messiness. Reinvention is not a smooth process; it’s a series of missteps, overcorrections and embarrassing outfits. Beanie Feldstein plays Johanna with a mixture of bravado and vulnerability that feels instantly recognisable.

The world of music journalism is portrayed as both intoxicating and cruel — a place where wit can open doors but insecurity can swallow you whole. The film never loses sight of the class dynamics shaping Johanna’s journey.

It’s funny, heartfelt and sharper than it first appears.


Streaming Choice

The Punisher — One Last Kill

Disney+, from Wednesday 13th May

Frank Castle returns in a story steeped in trauma, violence and the grim psychology that has always set The Punisher apart. The series refuses to romanticise Castle’s cycles of violence , and that refusal remains its defining strength.

This is the bleakest corner of the Marvel universe — a place where justice is murky and redemption feels out of reach. Castle’s war is internal as much as external.

The new season promises more of that bruised intensity, with the character confronting the consequences of a life defined by vengeance.

It’s not comfortable viewing, but it’s compelling.

Good Omens — 90‑minute finale

Prime Video, Wednesday

The final chapter arrives under the shadow of controversy surrounding Neil Gaiman, which he denies. Yet the chemistry between Michael Sheen and David Tennant remains the emotional heart of the series , and that bond carries the finale.

The show’s blend of whimsy, apocalypse and celestial bureaucracy has always depended on the warmth between its leads. Even amid production upheaval, that connection holds.

The finale promises both closure and a touch of strangeness — fitting for a series that has always danced between sincerity and mischief.

Nouvelle Vague

BFI Player, available now

A playful, affectionate and politically aware look at the birth of the French New Wave. Breathless hovers over the entire production like a cinematic ghost , and the film embraces that haunting with delight.

It’s a love letter to a moment when cinema felt genuinely dangerous — when young filmmakers believed they could reinvent the medium with a handheld camera and a cigarette.

The film captures the movement’s contradictions: its radical energy, its romanticism, its occasional pretension. But it does so with warmth rather than judgement.

A treat for cinephiles.

Black God, White Devil

BFI Player, available now

Glauber Rocha’s revolutionary western remains one of the defining works of Brazil’s Cinema Novo. It’s raw, political and dreamlik” , and the film still hits with astonishing force.

Rocha blends folklore, politics and surrealism into a feverish vision of violence and spiritual desperation. The film’s imagery is stark, almost biblical.

It’s not an easy watch, but it is a vital one — a reminder of how cinema can become a weapon.


Podcast Choice

That Perfect Beat: The London Records Story

A lively five‑part history of the label behind Bronski Beat, The Communards and Sugababes. Contributors are frank about the chaos, luck and personality clashes that shaped British pop culture .

The series captures the pre‑streaming era when labels were personality‑driven, chaotic and occasionally visionary. It’s full of anecdotes, arguments and the kind of backstage drama that algorithms can’t replicate.

A joyous listen.

The Hound of the Baskervilles — Hugh Bonneville

Bonneville narrates Conan Doyle’s classic 125 years after Holmes’ resurrection. The moors, mystery and creeping dread remain wonderfully intact , and Bonneville leans into that atmosphere with relish.

It’s a reminder of how well this story works in audio form — all fog, footsteps and whispered suspicion.

Scarred for Life

Now in its fifth series, this affectionate cultural deep‑dive invites guests to revisit the films, TV moments and childhood fears that lodged permanently in their imaginations. It’s part comic therapy session, part nostalgia archaeology.

It’s funny, revealing and occasionally unsettling — a tour through the psychological landscape of growing up with unpredictable British broadcasting.


Radio Choice

Saturday 9th May 2026

Archive on 4 — In the Psychiatrist’s Chair

BBC Radio 4, 8:00 PM

There was a time when serious conversation on British broadcasting carried a faint sense of danger — when interviewers were allowed to probe, pause, and push without the suffocating fog of media training drifting in to smother the moment. In the Psychiatrist’s Chair belonged to that era. Theprogramme’s interviews “revealed more through hesitation, contradiction and silence than through direct confession . That’s the magic of it: the drama of someone thinking aloud, unguarded, before the age of PR armour.

Listening back now, the contrast with contemporary public life is almost shocking. Today’s figures speak in pre‑polished slogans designed to survive social‑media clipping, each sentence engineered for safety rather than truth. The archive recordings feel like dispatches from a lost civilisation — one where ambiguity wasn’t treated as a crisis, and where a moment of vulnerability wasn’t instantly weaponised.

What stands out most is the trust. Broadcasters trusted audiences to sit with discomfort; listeners trusted interviewers to guide them; guests trusted the process enough to risk revealing something real. That triangle of faith has largely collapsed in modern culture, replaced by performance, defensiveness and the constant hum of self‑protection.

Revisiting these conversations now feels quietly radical. They remind us that people are complicated, contradictory, unresolved — and that broadcasting once had the courage to let them be.

Tuesday 12th May 2026

A Century in a Click — 100 Years of the Photobooth

BBC Radio 4, 4:00 PM

The photobooth occupies a strange, affectionate corner of cultural history — part novelty machine, part democratic portrait studio, part accidental confessional. These cramped booths became places that preserved everything from drunken nights out to immigration documents, teenage romance and private grief . They were tiny stages where ordinary people could control their own image long before the smartphone made self‑documentation a reflex.

What makes the photobooth so compelling is its physicality. You had only a few chances to get the picture right. No filters, no retakes, no algorithm smoothing out your edges. Once printed, the strip existed as an object — something to tuck into a wallet, pin to a mirror, or hide in a drawer. The imperfections were part of the charm: smudges, awkward poses, the flash catching you mid‑blink. Honesty by accident.

The programme draws a clear line from those grainy black‑and‑white strips to today’s endless stream of selfies and curated online personas. Yet the comparison only highlights what we’ve lost. The photobooth captured moments without expectation. It wasn’t about branding or performance; it was about presence.

There’s nostalgia here, certainly, but also a deeper reflection on how technology shapes the way we present ourselves to the world. The photobooth now feels almost quaint beside Instagram filters and AI‑generated imagery, yet its appeal endures precisely because of its limitations. It caught people as they were, not as they hoped to appear.

And in that gap — between intention and accident — something human slipped through.


Cover of 'The Angela Suite' by Anthony C Green featuring a pair of feet, a camera, and a city skyline in the background with a call to action to 'Buy Now'.

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