Shane Meadows may well be the world’s biggest Stone Roses fan. Having delayed the recording of This is England ’90 to shoot Made of Stone, the 2013 documentary charting the fortunes of the resurrected Roses, Meadows has devoted even more time and space to the Mancunian titans in the final instalment of the riveting drama spin off from 2006’s big screen hit This is England.
Their unmissable presence is indicative of the euphoria coursing through the episode, epitomised by a heady concoction of drugs, friendship, political upheaval and music celebrating diverse forms of liberation. It is already the most optimistic offering of the three mini-series that will undoubtedly throw those craving unrelenting melancholy.
2010’s This is England ’86 continued exploring the harrowing themes of its big screen cousin. Set three years hence, the series continued to focus on a group of disaffected kids in a monochrome, hope-starved world of a northern, working-class town whose identity remains ambiguous. The life rafts of friendship, clothes and rebellion keep the characters’ spirits afloat. It segued into 2011’s equally bleak This is England ’88, which saw the gang torn apart by treachery and depression. Beautifully acted by an extraordinary cast, both series challenged audience expectations of what we want to derive from art.
Now, the scooterboys and skinheads of the previous two series’ have morphed into Ian Brown clones clad in baddy regalia and technicolour tops that could give you tinnitus. The opening montage of anarchic images, adorned by the chiming ‘There She Goes’ by The La’s, throws us into an explosive realm of new possibilities. Clips of a swaggering Shaun Ryder sit comfortably next to the fire and brimstone poll tax riots, embodying perfectly the sense that the working-class felt empowered by music to break the Thatcherite shackles of the past eleven years.
The acting is still impeccable, the cast completely relaxed in each other’s presence. The ludicrously impressive Lol (Vicky McClure) jokes alongside fellow dinner lady Kelly (Chanel Cresswell); Gadget (Andrew Ellis) is the same endearing scruffbag thinking only of his belly (‘everybody loves chips!’); Woody (Joe Gilgun), now back with Lol, and friends with Milky (Andrew Shim) is more relaxed than ever. Only Shaun (Thomas Turgoose) drifts unhappily, his betrayal of Smell (Rosamund Hanson) combining with his dearth of motivation to make him a lone dark cloud in an otherwise opal sky.
Meadows is a master of conveying mood. The unfamiliar optimism of his new world stems from wider political change, notably Margaret Thatcher’s political demise. Even though the Conservatives retained power until 1997, Meadows wants the audience to realise that Thatcher’s departure caused a volcanic eruption of joy across northern working-class communities, which sang of new opportunities. One can imagine the atmosphere in rural Wiltshire would’ve been somewhat different at the time, and that polarisation is one Meadows relays expertly. When the gang dance deliriously to ‘Fool’s Gold’ at the Madchester disco, the music opens up a world they feel they can own, whatever it throws at them.
The parallels with today are obvious, making this more than a nostalgia trip. Like in 1990, we now have a Conservative government. Like in 1990, seismic political change has occurred which has energised young people, albeit on the left. Unlike 1990, there is no evident musical movement absorbing and articulating the nascent fountain of hope.
The episode’s success lies primarily in the evergreen attraction of rebelling against the establishment, whether it’s aggravating your parents with a love of long haired frontmen, drug taking and perhaps most importantly, jumping about to some of greatest music ever written with your friends. Thanks to the consistently phenomenal acting, these attractions are presented in a completely natural and sympathetic way.
Some of the coverage you find on Cultured Vultures contains affiliate links, which provide us with small commissions based on purchases made from visiting our site.
