G.B.H.
GBH was a seven-part British television drama written by Alan Bleasdale shown in the summer of 1991 on Channel 4. The protagonists were Michael Murray, the Militant tendency-supporting Labour leader of a city council in the North of England and Jim Nelson, the headmaster of a school for disturbed children. The series was controversial partly because Murray appeared to be based on Derek Hatton, former Deputy Leader of Liverpool City Council — in an interview in the G.B.H. DVD Bleasdale recounts an accidental meeting with Hatton before the series, who indicates that he has caught wind of Bleasdale's intentions but does not mind as long as the actor playing him is "handsome". In normal parlance, the initials "GBH" refer to the criminal charge of grievous bodily harm - however, the actual intent of the letters is that it is supposed to stand for Great British Holiday.
Director(s)
Robert Young
Cast & Crew
Seasons Guide
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Reviews
CinemaSerf
This is a terrific piece of political drama from Channel 4 and Alan Bleasdale that shines a light on a myriad of topics whilst set amidst the polarisation of Mrs. Thatcher’s 1980s Britain. Despite her fairly comprehensive election win in 1983, most of the urban population remained unconvinced by her policies and it’s in one such city that the fictional character of “Michael Murray” (Robert Lindsay) rules the roost. He is determined to thwart the government at every step, and calls a general strike throughout his un-named city. There’s a pretty rock solid turn out, except for one teacher - “Jim” (Michael Palin) who teaches young kids with learning difficulties and who decides that they are more important. His black-leggary attracts the attention of the charismatic “Murray” and over seven episodes we follow the battle between these two men. Both are on the political left, but they do not agree on the extent to which the former would radicalise the people. Of course, as the story develops we explore some fairly complex demons and nuances in their characters and these are presented with a potent thwack of dark humour that both men simply excel at. As their stand-off intensifies, the story takes a definite twist and strings start getting pulled from an altogether unexpected direction thanks to the intervention of “Barbara” (Lindsay Duncan) and the internecine scheming really takes off. Aside from Julie Walters’s strong effort as the mother of the increasingly wayward politician, there is also a really effective supporting cast featuring the likes of Philip Whitchurch, Paul Daneman, the frequently scene-stealing John Shrapnel and an whole host of familiar faces that offer us an observational critique of the sublime and the ridiculous. I wasn’t ever sure how I did want it to conclude, and that’s maybe my only real criticism of the series as it sort of fizzles out disappointingly, rather exposing the political convictions of the author, but with Lindsay and Palin both imbuing their roles with characteristics that can simultaneously evoke sympathy, loathing, anger and affection this just goes to show what can be done what talented people both in front and behind a camera can do with a solid story, creative acting talent and the bare minimum of distractions. Elvis Costello and Richard Harvey’s closing title music rather sums the whole thing up - a musical rollercoaster that includes the heavy, the light and even a little bit of the waltzer. Great television that in many ways symbolises a UK generation.
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