I can’t resist a chunky well-researched book about British television and Rob Young’s latest certainly ticked these boxes for me. Subtitled “Viewing Britain Through The Rectangular Window” this is a thorough work within its scope even if it is not quite the book I had thought it was.
Young examines Britishness through what we have watched for entertainment over the decades but this is not the social history I was expecting – this is more a guide to folk history. The focus is evenly on film and television and the author is happy to divulge plot spoilers occasionally to prove a point (I admit this grated on me even if the likelihood of me watching many of his examples is minimal).
To be honest, I realised quite early on, after the first few chapters, that most of the productions Young focuses on I hadn’t ever seen, and that was because, in a lot of cases they wouldn’t have appealed at the time they appeared. I would have written a lot of it as too weird or too rural or elemental, although with the passing of time many do hold a greater appeal to the me of now.
He is very good on British folk horror and cites three films as being vital in the development of this genre, “Witchfinder General” (1968), “Blood On Satan’s Claw” (1971) and,unsurprisingly, “The Wicker Man” (1973) all hugely influential in Young’s study. I found the author’s observation about threats in horror film fascinating. In British productions it often came from the ground whereas in the USA it was more likely to come from the air.
The land and our response to it is present from “Quatermass” to the recent revival of “Worzel Gummidge”. As children we were often presented with the weird and Young cites cult and ground-breaking (often in more ways than one) programmes which offered dystopias, ghost, alternate histories and parallel times set within our land which is not always , through the eyes of TV and film-makers, a green and pleasant one.
The author has sat through a lot of material to produce this work from slow-paced rural documentaries and information films to Plays For Today, which in itself has provided rich pickings. This was a long running strand on television which I remember being so diverse that you always had to give it ten minutes or so to know whether you were watching a future classic or needed to change channel. It’s scope was broad in that it offered something for everybody although rarely within the same play.
The book is tightly-structured and always readable and as I was reading it I was aware of the people I could recommend certain sections to. I personally did not end up with a massive list of things I wanted to watch as I had anticipated when starting it but these are insights into our past the like of which we will never see again. Young is right in his statement that in the times of streaming services, Netflix and viewer algorithms there is no way that most of the works featured in this book would ever be commissioned. It felt good to be informed and reminded of them.
The Magic Box was published in both the UK and US by Faber and Faber in 2021.