Review: Sex and Sensibility, BBC 4

Set against political scandal, mass immigration and growing cultural hysteria, this three-part BBC d

Despite, being a dazzling time full of progress and change, as the turning of a new century loomed, drug abuse, sexual deviance and syphilis were rife. Europe in the late 1800s was a hot bed of radical ideas and “there were also more ominous undercurrents”. Indeed, as Smith points out Conrad’s Heart of Darkness was published in 1899, at art nouveau’s height.

The first episode, broadcast last Thursday, explores the rise and fall of this flamboyant decorative style from it’s emergence in the Bohemian underbelly of Paris onto the streets of the city, giving us an insight into both the flourishing aesthetic of art nouveau and the lives of some of the city’s most glamorous and controversial fin de siècle figures.

Smith looks at the iconic, sensual images of actress Sarah Bernhardt, the exclusive architecture of the famous Maxim’s restaurant, Paris’s art nouveau metro stations as well as the exquisitely gaudy beauty of jewellery designed by Renee Lalique. But Smith’s exploration of this decadent world is  not just a flick through the picture books, as he reveals how some of art nouveau's stars risked their reputation to give meaning and purpose to work they thought would affect social change.

In Episode two Smith shifts his exploration to Britain wherein the “sensuality of exotic foreign influences met the genius of British craftsmanship”. Our art nouveau heritage is excavated revealing the “meteoric”, “dazzling”, “controversial” yet brief career of illustrator Aubrey Beardsley whose illustrations and association with Oscar Wilde scandalised the British public of the day. Smith also looks at the work of William Morris and Charles Rene McKintosh as well as lesser-known talents such as Margaret Macdonald.

Episode three, airing on Thurdsay 5th April, will see Smith journeying to Vienna to take a look at the master of art nouveau, Gustav Klimt.

The series uncovers glimpses into the world of art nouveau. Through visits to their private houses, previously unseen collections of their work and interviews with their enthusiasts, Smith talks engagingly and intriguingly about this fashion fad that disappeared almost as fast as it emerged. Whether you are a fan of the art nouveau style or not, the scandalous lives of its fin de siècle’s participants more than makes up for its over-the-top and whimsical aesthetics.

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How did Don’t Tell the Bride lose its spark?

Falling out of the love with reality TV’s wedding planning hit.

Steph, 23, from Nottinghamshire, is standing in a drizzly field wearing a wedding dress. Her betrothed, Billy, is running around in a tweed flat cap trying to make some pigs walk in “a continuous parade”. A man from Guinness World Records is watching with a clipboard, shaking his head. Bridesmaids gaze sorrowfully into the middle distance, each in a damp pig onesie.

Thus ends the second wedding in E4’s new series of Don’t Tell the Bride – and the programme’s integrity with it.

When the classic programme, which follows grooms attempting to plan their wedding (punchline: human males doing some organising), began a decade ago on BBC Three, it had the raw spark of unpredictability. For eight years, the show did nothing fancy with the format, and stuck with pretty ordinary couples who had few eccentric aspirations for their wedding day.

This usually resulted in run-of-the-mill, mildly disappointing weddings where the worst thing that happened would be a reception at the nearest motorway pub, or an ill-fitting New Look low heel.

It sounds dull, but anyone who has religiously watched it knows that the more low-key weddings expose what is truly intriguing about this programme: the unconditional commitment – or doomed nature – of a relationship. As one of the show’s superfans told the Radio Times a couple of years ago:

“It’s perfect, and not in an ironic or post-ironic or snarky way. The format has the solemn weight of a ceremony . . . Don’t Tell the Bride is not about ruined weddings, it’s about hope. Every wedding is a demonstration of how our ambitions curve away from our abilities. It’s a show about striving to deserve love and how that’s rarely enough.”

It also meant that when there were bombshells, they were stand-out episodes. High drama like Series 4’s notorious Las Vegas wedding almost resulting in a no-show bride. Or heart-warming surprises like the geezer Luke in Series 3 playing Fifa and guzzling a tinny on his wedding morning, who incongruously pulls off a stonking wedding day (complete with special permission from the Catholic Church).

For its eight years on BBC Three, a few wildcard weddings were thrown into the mix of each series. Then the show had a brief affair with BBC One, a flirt with Sky, and is now on its tenth year, 13th series and in a brand new relationship – with the more outrageous E4.

During its journey from BBC Three, the show has been losing its way. Tedious relationship preamble has been used to beef up each episode. Some of the grooms are cruel rather than clueless, or seem more pathetic and vulnerable than naïve. And wackier weddings have become the norm.

The programme has now fully split from its understated roots. Since it kicked off at the end of July, every wedding has been a publicity stunt. The pig farm nuptials are sandwiched between a Costa del Sol-based parasail monstrosity and an Eighties Neighbours-themed ceremony, for example. All facilitated by producers clearly handing the groom and best men karaoke booth-style props (sombreros! Inflatable guitars! Wigs!) to soup up the living room planning process.

Such hamminess doesn’t give us the same fly-on-the-wall flavour of a relationship as the older episodes. But maybe this level of artifice is appropriate. As one groom revealed to enraged fans in The Sun this week, the ceremonies filmed are not actually legally binding. “It makes a bit of a mockery of the process that the bride and groom go through this huge ordeal for a ceremony which isn’t even legal,” he said. Perhaps we should’ve predicted it would all eventually end in divorce – from reality.

Don’t Tell the Bride is on E4 at 9pm

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.