TV REVIEW: Terry Wogan's IrelandBBC1, Sunday; Nurse JackieBBC1, Saturday; Feirm FactorTG4, Sunday; The KillingBBC4, Saturday; Tonight with Vincent BrowneTV3, Monday and Tuesday
I WANT TO LIVE IN Terry Wogan's Ireland. The sun shines all the time – except in Limerick, where it rains, and in Kerry, where it's misty – the people are lovely, there are interesting stories around every corner and not a single person goes off on a demented Frontline-style rant about bankers or the clowns in the Dáil. And there's Terry, or Sir Terry Wogan as he is in the credits, giving the guided tour, and he's so nice and positive and delighted about everything – and not in a dewy-eyed emigrant-back-in-the-old-sod sort of way, which would have been maddening.
He pointed out that he's lived out of Ireland longer than he ever lived here and that "home is where your family are". He said it was common to hear other emigrants, especially of his generation, talking of "going home" and meaning Ireland, but that's never been his way. The BBC programme was a seamless mix of Who Do You Think You Are, the series where well-known people trace their ancestors, and a beautifully filmed travel programme with snippets of history and social commentary knitted in. Even his driver, Dave, tasked with bringing the great broadcaster on a tour of the country for the two-part series, is entertaining in a quiet, unassuming sort of way.
In Limerick Wogan met up with long-lost friends for a tour of their old school, and, after meeting his brother off the train, the two of them visited the house they grew up in. It was very touching in the way these things are, as they told stories of their much-loved mam and dad. In Ballinspittle he recounted the events of 1985 when the statue of the Virgin Mary in a grotto in the town was reported to have moved, drawing hundreds of thousands of pilgrims. Looking for an eye-witness account of the moving statue, he found a couple of local believers: “Sensible people – oh, all right, devout Catholics – who saw the statue move.”
His tone throughout was the jocular, self-deprecating one that he built his career on, and you’d be looking for flaws if you took offence or picked at some of the not-quite-right assumptions. “In my day Irish was still compulsory,” he told students while visiting the Gaeltacht, smiling at the absurdity of it but not knowing it still is.
IF FEIRM FACTOR had Terry Wogan's famous Eurovision-style commentary running underneath it, it would have a cult following; as it is, though, the X Factorfor farmers is doing pretty well, being nominated for an Ifta and now in its third series. The 12 mostly young, photogenic farmers are vying to win a jeep, under the watchful eye of presenter Maura Derrane, who takes squelching around in muck in her stride. The judges are farmer Seán Ó Lionáird and Anglo Irish Bank chairman Alan Dukes (a banker has to have a hobby, and golf's not too clever). The farmers – most of whom spoke English – take on challenges, from rounding up calves ("at least he didn't upset the animals in any way," said Ó Lionáird of one hapless candidate – not a comment most TV judges get to say) to taking part in a tug of war.
After a few close-ups of cows’ bottoms and some good-natured banter between the contestants, a winner emerged in the various tasks. There’s none of that sentimental malarkey about the contestants being “on a journey”, and no one burst into tears – far more real than most reality shows.
WHAT TO CALL Nurse Jackie? A drama? A comedy? Or that horrible new word collision, dramedy? Whatever it you call it, it's fantastic – if you have a very dark sense of humour. It stars Edie Falco, who, in the first series, shrugged off her Mrs Soprano character to play a sharp-tongued tough-but-kind nurse – in a steal-from-the-rich, give-to-the-poor sort of way – at a New York hospital. She is also a wife (though she lets on to be single at work), an adulterer and mother of two who gets through her punishing shifts by sprinkling Percocet into her coffee instead of sweetener and snorting Adderall in the loo – with a Vicodin chaser. And if that doesn't have you hooked nothing will.
Season one ended with Jackie dumping hospital pharmacist Eddie (Paul Schulze, Carmela's priest in The Sopranos) – a handy hook-up if you're a drug addict but not much use when the hospital installs an automated pill dispenser. This week's season-two opener started with her trying to be the good nurse, wife and mother, and it was pretty much a laugh-free episode (a drama this season, then), with Eddie stalking her Fatal Attraction-style and a new, male nurse letting her know he's on to her drug habit.
JUST BECAUSE IT'S from that part of the world, the arrival of the Emmy-nominated Danish mega-hit crime series The Killinghas been compared in preview mentions to the other Nordic noir crime series Wallander. Except it's not like it at all. The story, which started on Saturday, is far more political (the murder victim has links to the mayoral candidate's office), it's spread over 20 episodes and it has a female lead who isn't your lonely, middle-aged alcoholic crime-fiction stereotype. Sofie Gråbøl was nominated for an Emmy for the part of Insp Sarah Lund, who goes into work for her final day on the job but ends up taking on one last case.
It opens with a young woman running for her life through a spooky, dark forest – and that’s never going to end well.
The case stretches over 20 days, one episode per day (two shown back to back last Saturday). It's edge-of-the-seat, clever stuff, and it's being remade by AMC ( Mad Men, Walking Dead). Even on the strength of the first two episodes – subtitles and all – it'll be hard to better this original version.
Panel-beating presenter: RTÉ needs cloning technology to challenge the mighty Browne
Mr Higgins is a Trotskyite!" screeched Joan Burton on Tonight with Vincent Browne, and before you'd time-travelled back to a student-union debate in the 1970s, when people used that sort of meaningless ammunition, she followed up with, "and Mr Barroso is a Maoist", dragging the EU boss into her extraordinarily snippy attack on Joe Higgins. "You don't seem to be able to hold a fact in your head for five minutes," she shrilled as wine glasses shattered in sitting rooms around the country and dogs howled. And on and on it went. Browne made soothing noises, pretending to calm the situation. He revels in this sort of stuff.
“I just want a decent debate, dear,” said Burton. “Yes, darling” mumbled Browne. “What do we call you? Your MEPship? Deputy? Deputy?” she harangued. “You used to be called Joe.” “Ah, stop it, stop it,” said Browne while Simon Coveney, the third guest on the panel, sat there like an ornament.
They’re busy in RTÉ trying to put together a politics programme that will successfully go up against Browne in this late-night slot. Unless they can clone Browne, they can forget it. It’s his eccentric style that makes the programme compelling – not every night: sometimes it’s too boring or too bonkers to stay up for, but you won’t get that irreverence anywhere else in our mostly po-faced political TV coverage. On Tuesday Martin Mansergh gave a long-winded speech about why Brian Lenihan should be the next leader of Fianna Fáil. The gist of it was that, in the history of the party, they have always alternated between a culchie and a Dub. “So you’re saying it’s Dublin’s turn,” said Browne, chatting to Mansergh as if they were two old geezers in a gentleman’s club. “Sure that’s crackers.”
tvreview@irishtimes.com
