TV: Cucumber iii

With every episode of Cucumber, my suspicion that this is the closest we'll get to a complete Russell T Davies autobiography is growing. It often feels that Henry is speaking the writer's true innermost thoughts, but the same could be said about other characters too. 

In ordinary series, episode three would probably be about the point they would start to stagnate. You've had the amazing first episode, the second episode that secures your viewers for the whole series, and you'll have some kind of finale you're building towards. Cucumber, though, doesn't follow ordinary TV conventions - in many ways. Real life doesn't happen in a predictable fashion, and Davies mirrors this with the notion that anything could happen at any time a fixture of this and Banana. 

This episode focuses for the most part around Henry's flatmate and fellow HC Clements employee Freddie Baxter, played with impressive versatility by Freddie Fox. Up to now, we've had Freddie presented to us as a quiet, confident character. In a subversion of expectations typical of Davies, the character is flipped completely on his head when an old teacher comes back into his life. It all starts with a look across a car park, and that single frame, shot so beautifully by David Evans tells an entire story. Before long the pair (the elder of whom is married with two children) are back in each other's arms. 

And that's where the tale twists again. Gregory, the teacher, insists that it's just a one-off. Naturally you expect him to become hooked on Freddie again, as any character of the appropriate persuasion seems to. But Davies is cleverer than that. Even though Freddie undoubtedly gets the most of anyone in this show, he's the one that falls for Gregory. And so begins a relationship that ends in inevitable chaos for the school teacher, with Lance playing a crucial role in the resolution of this episode. Some might say the plots of this episode and last week's Banana are too similar, but I'd disagree even though I do acknowledge there are similarities. 

All this talk of Freddie doesn't mean that Henry's life has been put on hold though. Like real life, certain people's prominence rises and falls in this series. Lance and Gregory are two people who operate in completely different circles, yet come the end of episode three, one's kicking the other in the ribs. That's how Davies cleverly ties his whole series back to Henry. If he and Lance hadn't gone on that fateful date in episode one, these two people probably never would've met. I'm a firm believer that Davies is a master of storytelling, and he tells the most economical of stories, showing us events in miniature before inviting us to apply these across a much greater period and scale. 

It's not just the show's creator who seems to be speaking through these characters though. Henry's nephew Adam is a thinly-veiled reimagination of Benjamin Cook, a journalist who Davies is very familiar with, and the showrunner of accompanying documentary series Tofu. We explore some of the more obscure facets of Davies' personality here, with Adam engaging in the noughties trend of straight boys pretending to be gay whilst miming to pop songs to earn Henry a bit of cash. Whilst we're on the subject, I'm sure Adam being 15 is a reference to it being the same number of years since Queer as Folk, arguably Davies' breakthrough series, and Cucumber's thematic predecessor. 

It's been quite some time since I've heaped praise on Mr Murray Gold for the astounding musical score he affords these series. They're seriously fortunate to have him onboard, as his unique soundtrack (including an array of belts and zips) completes the package. Many are quick to write this off as 'that gay thing', and usually I'd disagree. Cucumber (and Banana) are all about people and relationships. The fact that a lot of those relationships are same-sex doesn't bother me one bit. All that said, this is undoubtedly the gayest episode of the franchise so far, with boys kissing, talking about oral sex, listening to sex and having sex. It's unashamedly, deliberately gay, and I can just imagine Russell at the keyboard, tapping out these scenes, hooting with laughter. And rightly so.

I'd have no issue recommending Cucumber on quality alone, but that recommendation does come with one precautionary piece of advice: don't watch it with your parents.

TV: Cucumber ii

I love Cucumber. After only two episodes, I'm utterly convinced that this will be one of my favourite series of all time. One of my favourite things about it (although there's hardly a shortlist) is how writer/creator Russell T Davies tells a story that feels completely 2015, but is also the oldest story in the book.

In essence, Cucumber seems to be Henry Best fighting problems he goes out of his way to create. What Davies has done so cleverly though is make Henry so personable and relatable - despite the fact I'm neither middle-aged (and no, that's not just denial!) nor gay - and so the audience is rooting for him even when it's obvious to us how much he's messing everything up. You feel for Lance too, having put up with this bumbling self-defeating hazard for nigh-on nine years. 

Beyond being phenomenal entertainment value though - it's typically witty of RTD - Cucumber is the most affecting show I've come across in years. This is possibly because, based on available evidence, it's the highest-quality programme of the last decade, probably longer. Everyone is on their A-game, from Davies' incredible writing to David Evans and Jake Polonsky's beautiful shots and casting, to Vincent Franklin and Cyril Nri giving their all as the two pillars of the series.

We meet Henry's sister Cleo for the first time here, too, played wonderfully by Julie Hesmondhalgh. One of the oft-noted things about Davies' writing is how he can capture characters and relationships so economically, and I'd like to take a moment to echo that. Between all our main players, even down to the aggravated, angry widow who believes Henry was responsible for her husband's suicide and so - successfully - sets out to ruin his life, Davies can build a complete image of a person like no-one else. The way he uses their environment to tell us about them is extremely skilful too, and that's demonstrated again in this episode via a text conversation.

In short, Cucumber continues to be bold, brave and thoroughly beautiful. It tells its story through pictures, using its gloriously flawed characters to create mayhem for themselves. This is probably my favourite thing ever, and no, that's not a 2015ism. 

TV: Cucumber i

And so Russell T Davies returns to 'mainstream' television. In the five years since leaving Doctor Who, Davies has overseen the fourth series of its spin-off Torchwood and developed CBBC show Wizards vs Aliens, also taking a period off to care for his partner. But as enjoyable as both of those projects were, it feels good to have him doing what he does best again, and just writing human drama.

Davies has taught me a lot. From him I've learnt that life is all about people, and all about love. These are undeniably the underlying themes that span all of his creative works; no matter how far-fetched or abstract the surface layer may seem, there's a resounding heart thumping beneath it. And in this case, it's Henry Best's heart. Best is a man who's content with life. Not overly pleased with the side-effects of ageing, perhaps, but content. And a big part of that sense of fulfilment is boyfriend of nine years Lance Sullivan. 

Love's a strange thing. Like many words and concepts, I think its true meaning has been lost thanks to the extremist culture (partly influenced by the media, no doubt) we find ourselves in. These days, anything not advertised as the 'best', the 'hottest', the 'nastiest' and so on is almost immediately dismissed as inconsequential. In this way, words like 'epic' and 'awesome' have become bywords for 'really good', their true meanings getting buried. Similarly, 'love' and 'hate' are now recognised as extremes of like and dislike. But in my opinion, love and hate are completely separate emotions to the 'like' spectrum, instead being feelings of immense adoration or intense detest. It's the former concept that Davies explores so expertly and his writing proclaims that love goes beyond words or actions. It's much deeper-seated.

Here we're treated to Davies' other speciality: chaos. It was prevalent in his Doctor Who writing, particularly in his penultimate episodes of each series. The madness seems to stem from a single question: "how bad can things get?" First the Daleks were reborn from the ashes, with a new invasion force ready to conquer the universe and the technology to convert humans; then the Cybermen invaded Earth before the Daleks turned up again; then the Master turned Earth into weapons factory to combat the galaxy, enslaving humanity using their descendants; then Davros rocked up and created a bomb to destroy the entirety of reality. You can probably see what I'm getting at now.

The question Davies poses here is "how badly wrong can a date go?" At the start of the evening, Best and Sullivan are a happy couple, settled, guilt-free and with flourishing careers. By the end of the evening, the couple are living apart (one squatting in a warehouse, the other in a police cell), three men are in the care of the law because of Best. I think the utter insanity is displayed best in the shower sequence, when emails are arriving, phone messages are being left, texts are arriving and Best belts out his favourite tune, completely unaware all the while. 

The very clever thing about the way this episode's written is that it makes the audience feel special, like watching this is a real pleasure. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's an effortless quality to this programme than makes you feel honoured to view it. But I must extend my praises beyond Davies' keyboard. Murray Gold's medley of male choirs was very welcome here and I though the musical accompaniment throughout simply superb. I pray there's an original soundtrack release for Cucumber - I'd snap it up instantly. I haven't purchased an OST album since Gold's work for the 2007 series of Doctor Who, so this really would be saying something.

The cast are all perfect for their roles too. As fifty-something virgin Best, Vincent Franklin is unrivalled though. He gives a powerhouse performance through understanding his character intimately. I really hope he gets many, many nominations. Also exhibiting some fine acting prowess are Cyril Nri (Sullivan) and Fisayo Akinade (Best's colleague Dean). That said, none of the cast show signs of being anywhere south of excellent and only serve to add to the impressiveness of the show. Another member of the production team enhancing proceedings is director David Evans, whose CV makes for very encouraging reading. It seems he was the perfect choice to helm Cucumber's opening episode, immediately establishing an intriguing and engaging visual language for it that I hope will be carried through to future weeks. 

All in all, I think I've made my feelings on this quite clear. It's damn good, and another feather in 2015's cap. The three main creative forces behind it - Davies, Julie Gardner and Nicola Shindler - have all been responsible for some of my favourite programmes over the last decade, and are the very reason I'm writing this now. I hold them in extremely high esteem, and I don't think it's hard see why when their combined forces can produce something as good as this. This is pure, unadulterated glorious viewing from start to finish. It's not a gay drama, it's a (effing good) drama about a man who happens to be gay. Thinking of all the other programmes I've rated 10/10 this year, this blows them all out the water. For this reason, I award Cucumber our golden commendation, invented specifically for this. Expect to see Cucumber all over our site awards nominations and winners next year.

In a Nutshell: This is drama of the Davies variety, and there's simply nothing better.