Dominic West as Hector Madden, dozing in his police cell. It wasn't a good week for him. Photograph: BBC
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The Hour: series 2, episode 2

A morality tale featuring a delicious blend of vice, corruption, pornography and cooking.

WARNING: This blog is for people watching "The Hour" on Wednesday nights on BBC2. Don't read ahead if you haven't watched it yet - contains spoilers!

Catch up on last week's instalment here

This was a morality tale. In fact, because this is The Hour and nothing is ever straightforward, it was several morality tales at the same time. You could take your pick, really: fascists and free speech; pornography and corruption; innocence and loyalty - this episode had it all.

The main business of this episode was Hector’s spectacular fall after his drunken, lecherous pride. He ends up languishing in a cell after being (wrongfully) accused of beating up a Soho callgirl. The use of contrast here was superb – at the start, he’s the bumptious dinner party host, swilling down cocktails and rolling his eyes at his wife. Twenty minutes later, we see him in a police interview, hands shaking so much he can’t even put a cigarette between his lips.

The breakout performance of this episode was undoubtedly Oona Chaplin as Hector’s long-suffering wife, Marnie. Rather than dash straight down to the police station to try and exonerate him, she suddenly finds a spine and spends the night on her own at home before successfully auditioning for some producers to get her own cookery show. It’s a delicious bit of plotting – not only has Hector been humiliated by his arrest, he’s now not even the most popular television personality in his own house. When she does finally turn up to take him home, it’s a different Marnie wrapped in that expensive fur coat. No more will she put up and shut up with Hector’s antics – she’s going to drive the car if she wants to, while firmly telling him that theirs is now a marriage for appearances only. I look forward to Marnie discovering feminism next week, taking a lover who actually likes her, and finally giving Hector the boot.

Marnie: soon-to-be professional domestic goddess. Photograph: BBC

As I mentioned last week, The Hour has really struck lucky when it comes to its scheduling. The news agenda might have moved on now from the perpetual “BBC in crisis” stuff of ten days ago, but when Anna Chancellor’s Lix declares exasperatedly “Is this what we have to look forward to? Continuous controversy?” you can’t help feeling she’s on to something.

The controversy she refers to is Freddie’s determination to interview a fascist on The Hour. The debate the programme’s journalists have about it is strikingly similar to the arguments made when BNP leader Nick Griffin appeared on the BBC’s Question Time in 2009 – Bel and Hector feel its “playing into Mosley’s hands to let them join the debate”, while Freddie thinks they shouldn’t patronise their viewers, and rather “give him the rope to hang himself if he wants”. In an example of how The Hour rather neatly blends the personal drama with the political storylines, the fascist Freddie interviews just so happens to be the one that’s been terrorising his wife, and the “immigrant” who gives the other side of the story is Hour secretary Sissy’s boyfriend, and Freddie’s lodger. The latter, Sey Ola (whose struggle between love of freedom and hatred of his persecutors is portrayed brilliantly by Adetomiwa Edun) eventually delivers the standout speech of the episode – telling Freddie that it’s because the fascists have the freedom to say such hateful things about him that he knows British democracy is strong, and that it’s where he wants to make his home. Next time someone makes the “no platform” argument, I think they should be required to watch that clip and reconsider their position.

After a slightly whiney start last week, this was a good episode for Romola Garai’s Bel. She did some serious investigating of the Soho pornography scene, flirted extensively with her opposite number on ITV’s Uncovered (who turns out to be a widower who can be prevailed upon to bring her chips late at night), and makes friends with Freddie again – most of which she achieves while wearing a very clinging and extremely attractive emerald green cocktail dress. This excellent little snippet of dialogue gives me hope too that Abi Morgan has plans for the future of Bel and Freddie’s complicated relationship:

“Where have you been?”

“Buying pornography. You?

“Picking up fascists.”

“Marvellous.”

A slightly more disappointing aspect of this week's episode was the readiness with which the woman accusing Hector revealed her real motive - she was actually trying to punish her lover, the deputy commissioner of police, the stern-jawed Commander Stern. His corruption notwithstanding, I felt as if we should have had to guess at that for at least another episode, but perhaps it was important to reveal it now in order to facilitate greater plot machinations in the future. The jury's out on this one.

Commander Stern, looking stern. Photograph: BBC

Incidentally, my prayers for more of Ben Whishaw and less of his beard were answered this week. We even got to see him, clean-shaven, do the journalistic equivalent of shadow-boxing, practicing his presenting skills on invisible interviewees. Lovely stuff, although his French wife is starting to grate slightly. For the second time in two episodes she appeared mostly on screen wearing just her knickers and an over-large jumper. I think this is supposed to tell us that she is “bohemian”, compared to the English women who keep their stockings on at all times.

Another interesting revelation this week – Peter Capaldi can do sex appeal. His languid, drawled “You’re wearing a cocktail dress – have I missed the party?” and Bel’s blushing reaction perhaps sets up an intriguing new relationship, although I must admit I’d much rather see more of him arguing with Anna Chancellor.

Yes, Peter Capaldi can do brooding sex appeal. I was surprised too. Photograph: Getty Images

Chancellor remains, for me, the best actor in this thing, and she also delivered the line that neatly wrapped all the morality tales together:

“Heroes or villains, we’re all somewhere in between. The good do bad things and the bad are sometimes kind to their mothers.”

Meanwhile, a newly-liberated Hector returns to his favourite Soho haunt and demands a table “at the front – I've got nothing to hide.”

So, the moral of the story? Nobody ever learns their lesson.

I'll be blogging "The Hour" each week - check back next Thursday morning for the next installment, or bookmark this page

Caroline Crampton is assistant editor of the New Statesman. She writes a weekly podcast column.

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Out like a light: why bad sleep poses a danger to us all

Our species has declared war on the night and sleep has been the victim.

At 4.02am on 2 November 1892, near Thirsk railway station in Yorkshire, an express train crashed into a goods train. Ten people were killed and 39 injured. Nearly a century later, at 1.23am on 26 April 1986, the No 4 reactor at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant exploded, killing two people instantly and causing multiple deaths from radiation. To see how these seemingly unrelated tragedies are connected requires that we understand biological time.

Our lives are ruled by time, but the alarms that drive us out of bed in the morning or tell us that we are late for a meeting are recently adopted chronometers. Life answers to a more ancient beat, which probably started to tick early in the evolutionary process. Embedded in our genes are the instructions for a biological or “circadian” clock that regulates our sleep patterns, alertness, mood, physical strength, blood pressure, and more.

Normally, we experience a 24-hour pattern of light and dark and this aligns our day to the Earth’s rotation. The clock is then used to anticipate this rotation and fine-tune physiology and behaviour before these conditions change. Temperature, blood pressure and cognitive performance all decline as you wind down to sleep. Before dawn, these processes are slowly reversed in anticipation of the new day.

The daily sleep cycle is the most obvious of these rhythms. While asleep, we don’t eat, drink, make money or have sex, so we have relegated the sleep state to a lowly position on our list of priorities. At best, we tolerate it; at worst, we regard it as an illness in need of a cure. Such attitudes are not only wrong, but dangerous.

Though sleep may involve the suspension of most physical activity, the brain is consolidating memories and solving problems; it co-ordinates the removal of toxins; promotes cell division and tissue repair; and rebuilds metabolic pathways. In short, without sleep, our performance and health deteriorate rapidly.

Our species has declared war on the night and sleep has been the victim. The unintended consequences of cheap electric light are twofold. More light at night, together with forms of entertainment including social media, have eroded our sleep time by as much as two hours every night. On top of this, many of us are trying to sleep at the wrong time. Those with night shifts work when they are sleepy and try to sleep when they are not. The body clock fails to adjust and remains synchronised to the natural light/dark cycle.

Shortened sleep and working against biological time have been linked with many health problems. These include lapses in attention and uncontrollable micro-sleeps; impulsiveness and loss of empathy; memory impairment and reduced creativity; immune suppression; higher risks of Type 2 diabetes, infection, cancer and cardiovascular disease; weight gain; and a susceptibility to depression, anxiety and mood instability.

In our quest for instant gratification, it is unlikely that we will stop doing what we like when we like. However, understanding the consequences of bad sleep will help us to reprioritise sleep. Perhaps, one day, the self-inflicted tired will be viewed with the same contempt as that for smokers huddled outside a building. Employers need to recognise that employees with disrupted sleep will be less productive. Why not introduce more health checks and offer advice to those at risk? As night-shift workers are more likely to have heart disease and Type 2 diabetes and to be obese, firms could provide food that reduces these risks. Finally, technology could be used to alert an individual that they are falling asleep both in the workplace and during the drive home.

So, what happened at Thirsk railway station in 1892 and Chernobyl in 1986? These disasters and others like them were linked to excessive tiredness, people working at the wrong biological time and a breakdown in procedure. James Holmes was the signalman at Thirsk. The day before the crash, he had been awake for 36 hours, caring for his daughter, trying to find a doctor and looking after his grief-stricken wife when the baby died. He reported to the stationmaster that he would be unable to work the next night, but no replacement was sent and he was forced to do his shift. He fell asleep, and he had forgotten that the goods train was on the line when he allowed the express through.

After the crash, Holmes was found guilty of manslaughter but given an absolute discharge. The railway company was blamed for ignoring him, and for failing to use procedures which would have detected that he had fallen asleep.

Russell Foster is Professor of Circadian Neuroscience at the University of Oxford

This article first appeared in the 23 March 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump's permanent revolution