TV: Banana viii

And so we come to the end of Cucumber's little sister show. Banana has come in eight weird and wonderfully diverse packages, topped off with a callback to both the third episode of the series, and the last two of Cucumber. But you needn't have see any of those three marvellous pieces of television to enjoy this spellbinding climax. 

Vanessa is a contract industrial cleaner, who employs Jonjo to source labour. Many of his subjects are of course immigrants, but these are young girls from Africa. When one reaches out to Vanessa, telling her what he's done, and asking for help, there's a caustic reaction to say the least. From Vanessa's good nature in Sue Perkins' excellent episode earlier this series, viewers can be fairly confident that she'll make things right in the end somehow. 

Over the course of fifteen minutes or so, dedicated entirely to strong actresses Lynn Hunter and Nikki Fagbemi, the pair learn to communicate in a method transcending language. Vanessa is furious that Zara has told her about it. She's known about it for years, but now the hard decision comes as she's forced into action by the rules of television. There's a lovely little number at the end too. And there's a sting in the tale that'll leave you with a massive grin across your face.

It must be said that this episode really doesn't fit the format established by the preceding seven, including two by Davies himself. In a way, it resembles the others in that it forces the protagonist/s to take a stand and do what they feel is right. But there's no love story here. In our last ever visit to the Calico Flats, they're transformed and there's hope on the horizon for Vanessa's workers, with the possibility of moving in.

Banana's been an odd little series, often only loosely linked to the main show, but I've loved it. It's delivered exceptional drama, admittedly not quite on the scale of Cucumber, but great nonetheless. It's pushed the boundaries of modern TV, and has been unashamedly frank in its storytelling. The best four episodes for me were the first three (chronicling Dean, Scotty and Sian) and the sixth (written by and starring Charlie Covell) but there's been moments in all of them that I've liked.

I'm very grateful to everyone who worked on this interesting little series for brightening the TV landscape. While change will inevitably slow, hopefully this series, along with its sister programme, have started something of a revolution. That said, Queer  as Folk made barely any lasting impact, as well as that was received. We can live in hope. If this was all it was meant to be, that's still great. 

TV: Banana vi

Charlie Covell returns to script her second episode of the series, and also stars as the main protagonist, Amy. Right from the off, we're shown everything we need to know about her. She's performed extremely well by Covell, and it's clear that the writer knows her character inside out, adding little tics to the performance. I really liked the way this was subtly package as a day in the life for Amy as she bounces from home to work to dinner, all the while scared stiff that everyone she sees will drop dead if she doesn't do all she can.

After a few minutes' adjustment, I found Covell to be really quite endearing in the role. This is half an hour of character drama with one of the most likeable characters Banana has presented us with. We've all had the moment where we clam up or gabble at the worst possible moment, and Amy gets for an entire evening when she goes on a date with policewoman Kay. Really, Kay is quite peripheral to the whole thing, which is more concerned with showing us that there's someone out there for everyone.

The entire episode is shot beautifully by Al Mackay, yet another director Banana has introduced me to. From his previous work (largely as a location manager) it seems something of a gamble was taken on him by executive producer Nicola Shindler (who I don't praise nearly enough!) and co. It totally paid off me, and indicates that he should have a bright future in this field. The images broadcast were particularly photogenic, but his command of actors clearly isn't slack either. The moment in the last scene where the buildings around our two leads light up was electric. In the preceding moments, that's exactly what I was imagining I would do. It's a rare occasion when I actually second guess what's coming next, so this was quite pleasing.

Although there wasn't any tangible jeopardy in this episode was as with, for example, Bethany Black's a couple of weeks ago, the will she/won't she of the date (and following it) is made into more than enough of an event. TV focuses on the small moments that mean so much to the individual, making this series especially refreshing. Something of a recurrent theme creator Russell T Davies likes using is asking how bad things can get. Most recently, this has been 'how badly wrong can a date go?'. For Cucumber lead Lance, episodes one and six of the parent show have answered that, one ending with his arrest, and the other with his murder, briefly mentioned here. It's nice to see Amy appear to completely mess things up, only to still get the girl in contrast to the expectation created by Davies.

This is one of the stronger episodes of the series, which is saying something. Covell writes economically and succinctly, but still manages to convey wholesome characters and situations. The closing moment is one of joy and adrenaline in the best sense. The feeling that anything could happen next is positively tangible, and accompanied by a typically pacey and appropriate soundtrack from Ben Foster, it's hard not to be moved. If only we could all have nights like this. Standout drama once again from Team Davies; I love it.