Well, now we know what all that grinning was about...

Eight Classic Films, TV Dramas and Spoken Word Albums That Feel Painfully Relevant in 2024

[NB. In keeping with WordJam's house style, films are attributed to director and TV dramas to screenwriter.]

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Privilege

(d. Peter Watkins: Universal, 1967)

Any of Peter Watkins' films could've made this list, but in an era where celebrity supposedly equals moral authority, Privilege seems more timely than ever. Set at an unspecified time in the (then) near-future, the film depicts a pop star being used by the government as both controlled rebellion and, later, an agent of social conformity. While Privilege isn't one of Watkins' best works (his unique faux-documentary style doesn't quite gel here), if you substitute the main character for, say, Taylor Swift, Megan Thee Stallion or Lizzo you'll find yourself gazing directly into the soulless, aspiration-driven void of contemporary pop culture. Incidentally, several sequences are recreated practically shot-for-shot in Stanley Kubrick's own dystopian classic A Clockwork Orange.

The Year of the Sex Olympics

(scr. Nigel Kneale: BBC, 1968)

Most critical analyses of The Year of the Sex Olympics tend to focus on how Nigel Kneale predicted reality television a good thirty years before it first hit our screens, but this tends to obscure other anticipations that are far more pertinent. In the authoritarian media-industrial complex depicted in the play, the masses are pacified with drugs and pornography to prevent population growth, everyone speaks in bastardised Americanese, entertainment is dumbed down to the absolute lowest common denominator, and any ideas that are deemed likely to elicit emotional responses are promptly stamped out to prevent personal discomfort and self-reflection. Sound familiar? 

The Devils

(d. Ken Russell: Warner Bros., 1971)

The late, great Ken Russell described The Devils as his one and only political film; in many ways, one roll of the dice was all he needed. Using the Loudon 'possessions' in 17th century France as its focal point, the film takes in a decadent and depraved ruling elite using repressive moral dogma to keep the rest of the populace in check, lawfare, moral panic, smear campaigns, social coercion and political theatre to show the abuse of power at its most abhorrent. "Don't look at me!" screams Father Grandier (Oliver Reed in a career-best performance) as he burns at the stake in the film's harrowing climax. "Look to your city! Your city is destroyed... Your freedom is destroyed also." Well, quite.

Lemmings

(National Lampoon: Banana/Blue Thumb Records, 1973)

National Lampoon's merciless Woodstock parody began life as a stage production before being preserved for posterity on record. In addition to capturing a group of brilliant young comedians on the threshold of success (Christopher Guest, Chevy Chase, John Belushi et al), it chronicles a moment in time when alternative culture was becoming a grim, myopic parody of itself. There's nothing wrong with idealism, of course - but as Lemmings reminds us, when dreams of utopia wilfully ignore even the most basic realities it's not unreasonable for people looking in through the correct end of the telescope to call bullshit. 

A Very Peculiar Practice

(scr. Andrew Davies: BBC, 1986-88, 1992)

Inspired by Andrew Davies' experiences as a lecturer in English literature and creative writing at the University of Warwick, A Very Peculiar Practice was intended as both a satire on the egregious mismanagement in higher education during the 1980s and an exquisitely subtle state of the nation address. Far from being an artefact from another time, however, it pre-empts so many frontline issues in the present, seemingly never-ending culture war that it's now painfully obvious Davies was sounding the alarm long before the first shots were fired. Institutional capture; the unholy alliance between self-styled progressive ideologies and big pharma, big tech and the military-industrial machine; cancel culture (exemplified here as traditional academia vs. radical theory); deplatforming: at times, it feels like this brilliantly witty and truly unique series could've been written yesterday. Or tomorrow.

Holding On

(scr. Tony Marchant: BBC, 1997)

Tony Marchant's eight-part, Robert Altman-esque ensemble drama was broadcast shortly after the 1997 UK general election, and although its story of a seemingly unconnected group of Londoners brought together by an unmeditated murder may have been devised during the dying days of John Major's Conservative government, it strongly anticipates the Britain that would emerge in the shadow of Tony Blair's New Labour. This is a world where idealism and opportunity walk hand-in-hand, but promises mean nothing and no one acknowledges responsibility. Whatever your political stripe, Holding On speaks to that deeply human need to connect with others in a society that's forgotten the value of community.

Give Me Immortality or Give Me Death

(The Firesign Theatre: Rhino Records, 1998)

Often (glibly) referred to as America's answer to Monty Python, The Firesign Theatre produced some of the most innovative comedy albums of the 1960s and '70s: their idiosyncratic fusion of socio-political satire and surreal silliness forming the missing link between The Goons and Thomas Pynchon. In the late '90s, they regrouped to record their 'Millennium Trilogy', taking their last pot-shots at the madness of the 20th century before it expired. Give Me Immortality or Give Me Death is the first and finest of these albums, presented as the output of a major commercial radio station on New Year's Eve 1999. Alternative facts, gleeful doom-mongering, media overreach and rampant corporatism collide in a series of bizarre yet all too plausible vignettes that somehow seem to belong in a post-2016 world than the one depicted here. Laced throughout are a series of commercials for an all-purpose, BlackRock-style asset management company whose sales pitch becomes increasingly more sinister as the clock ticks down to midnight ("US Plus: We own the idea of America...").

Shoot the Messenger

(scr. Sharon Foster: BBC, 2006)

To my mind the last great television play produced by the BBC, Shoot the Messenger is an extraordinary meditation on race in 21st century Britain that shits all over the racist bilge propagated by grifters like Reni Eddo-Lodge and David Olusoga. Broadcast only once and subjected to a storm of entirely misplaced controversy, Sharon Foster's drama focuses on Joe, an IT consultant who becomes a teacher after reading that black students in inner-city schools are underperforming next to their white peers. When he finds himself dismissed from his job following an allegation of misconduct from a problem pupil, Joe enters a spiral of depression and homelessness which leads him to self-identify as white. Through direct-to-camera address, we follow his journey through multicultural Britain, exploring differing perceptions and facets of black culture. In a world where everyone's told to stay in their lane and categorised into eternal victims or perpetual oppressors, God knows we need intelligent, nuanced and - above all - fearless work like this. 

Honourable Mention:

The Future

(Leonard Cohen: Columbia, 1992)

I wasn't going to include music in this list, but since Leonard Cohen's albums blur the line between music and the spoken word it would be remiss not to mention this late masterpiece. Written partially in response to the sweeping geopolitical changes of the early 1990s, The Future rejects the notion put forward by Francis Fukuyama that the 'triumph' of western liberal democracy marks both the end of history and the decline of tyranny in favour of a more cautious worldview: one where, as Cohen growls on the title track, "Things are gonna slide, slide in all directions / Won't be nothing / Nothing you can measure anymore." Elsewhere, tracks like "Democracy", "Closing Time" and "Anthem" appear to sense the disquiet to come with the sort of wry bemusement only someone who's made their way through the looking glass can muster. Indeed, listening to The Future now is an almost eerie experience: so many of our contemporary concerns, from forever wars to neo-secular death cults, seem to be presented here that the overall effect is akin to a kind of precognitive eulogy.

Manic Street Preachers' The Holy Bible @30: WordJam Exclusive!

To mark the 30th anniversary of their ground-breaking album The Holy Bible, the Manic Street Preachers are releasing a new single featuring lyrics from everyone's favourite missing person, Sylvia Plath wannabe, incompetent rhythm guitarist and razorblade enthusiast Richey Edwards! The track, "Gymnasium Charnel House", should drop on Spotify ...erm... soon, but in the meantime, WordJam readers can get an exclusive first-hand look at the lyrics themselves, found down the back of a radiator at Sound Space Studios in Cardiff:

Cut myself with a broken Coke bottle

Capitalism seeps thru

Caspar David Friedrich was German

And Bertolt Brecht too

Stand away from the gap at the station

Observe the max headroom

Your vodka tears are no sanctuary

They're just a tomb

Pay your rent

Pay your rent

Direct debit

Standing order

Neon chrome glitter an oxymoron

You should read Henry Theroux

The scansion is breaking apart now

And the coherency too

Arthur Rimbaud is fucking modernity

I've seen Betty Blue

All your anxieties summed up

By a pretentious word stew

Pay your rent

Pay your rent

Milton Friedman stole my ice cream

On 'Joy'

Just a question for anyone who's been following the 2024 Democratic National Convention: leaving aside the doublethink, hypocrisy and the sheer absurdity of it all, where exactly is this 'joy' we keep hearing so much about? 'Cos I've got to say, I'm not feeling it. And on a more practical level, I don't quite understand how it's going to jumpstart the US economy, resolve the situation at the border or deal with the fentanyl crisis. Will it reconcile the pro-life and pro-choice camps, or those who think biological sex is real and immutable with those who believe there's no such thing? Is it strong enough to end the carnage in Ukraine and Gaza, and perhaps make the world a safer, saner place? Or is this joy something only a select group of people who hold the 'correct' opinions and have bank balances equivalent to the GDP of Luxembourg are allowed to feel, while the rest of us, much like the workhouse orphans in Oliver Twist, look on with empty stomachs and sad, slobbering mouths, waiting for the bombs to fall?

The answer, my friends, is blowing in the wind. Possibly.

Ten Future Classics of World Cinema

If you're anything like me, you probably get fed-up with the same old, same old film recommendations from service providers and online platforms. True, there have been some fantastic films in recent years that more than hold their own against the classics of old (I'm convinced, for example, that Hell or High Water deserves to be ranked alongside Chinatown as a timeless masterpiece, and The Love Witch is a fully-fledged cult favourite waiting to happen), but I do get a little bit antsy constantly being told I should check out the usual, pseudo-serious Hollywood bilge like Manchester by the Sea, When a Star is Born and Oppenheimer as though these will somehow change my life. What about cinema further afield that is genuinely pushing in a different direction?

As such, I present a quick guide to ten world cinema films of the last fifteen years that I think deserve far greater exposure. Most of them should be on streaming services of one stripe or other, and there are at least two or three floating around on YouTube. Check 'em out: I promise they'll give you more to chew over than tripe like Barbie and Dune.

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1.

Loveless

(Russia: d. Andrey Zvyagintsev, 2017)

A couple going through a bitter divorce argue over who gets custody of their 12-year-old son Alyosha. Both are in new relationships, however, and neither of them wants the responsibility. When Alyosha doesn't come home from school one day, they find themselves reluctantly drawn back together in their attempt to find him through a volunteer group. Bleak, stately and mature, this is filmmaking of the highest order.

2.

Hard to Be a God

(Russia/Czech Republic: d. Aleksei German, 2013)

On a distant planet identical to ours in its medieval period, a scientist from Earth posing as a nobleman observes the rituals and customs of a society trapped in barbarism and superstition. Tired of the seemingly never-ending purges of artisans and free-thinkers, he attempts to lead the people towards enlightenment - with horrific results. Truly visionary and painfully relevant.

3.

Phoenix

(Germany: d. Christian Petzold, 2014)

Recently released from Auschwitz, former nightclub singer Nelly Lenz (the ever-wonderful Nina Hoss) goes in search of husband Johnny in Berlin. When they finally meet, he doesn't recognise her due to the racial reconstructive surgery she's undergone as the result of a bullet wound, but considers her close enough in appearance to his wife to claim her inheritance. The tone is melancholic and measured, but when the emotion bursts through, boy does it hit.

4.

November

(Estonia: d. Rainer Sarnet, 2017)

A small village in 19th century Estonia is ravaged by the plague. A farmer makes a deal with the Devil to spare his son Hans and the girl he loves so his bloodline will continue. Unbeknownst to Hans, who lusts after the local Baron's daughter, a young woman called Liina has been practising some magic of her own to win his affections. Bursting with imaginative imagery, this is a lyrical feast for both the mind and the senses.

5.

The Salesman

(Iran: d. Asghar Farhadi, 2016)

A schoolteacher playing the lead role in an amateur production of Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman is horrified when he discovers his wife has been sexually assaulted in their apartment. After learning that the former occupant was a prostitute and the assailant one of her clients, his self-worth begins to unravel as he becomes obsessed with finding the man responsible. Bold and honest, this is an excellent meditation on sexual mores and bruised ego.

6.

Stations of the Cross

(Germany: d. Dietrich Brüggemann, 2014)

14-year-old devout Catholic Maria prays to God every night in the hope that He will cure her younger brother's autism. When her prayers go unanswered, she offers herself as a sacrificial figura christi, taking on the sins of all around her. Harrowing and compelling in equal measure, theme and form are harmonised to such a degree that not a single shot is wasted.

7.

On Body and Soul

(Hungary: d. Ildikó Enyedi, 2017)

Abattoir workers Endre and Maria share a recurring dream they are a pair of deer in a forest. They become lovers, but soon discover the real world is no match for the mythical land that haunts their dreams. By turns tender and emotionally charged, On Body and Soul is a fascinating journey into the depths of desire and yearning that never short-changes the intellect.

8.

White Tiger

(Russia: d. Karen Shakhnazarov, 2012)

A Russian tank commander who miraculously survives death at the hands of a ghostly, seemingly indestructible German tank finds himself pursuing his would-be executioner through the bombed-out plains of the Eastern Front. Soundtracked by Richard Wagner and containing a number of allusions to Arthurian mythology and Moby Dick, White Tiger is a complex, beguiling masterpiece of magic realism that rewards repeat viewing.

9.

The Wall

(Austria/Germany: d. Julian Pölsler, 2011)

The terrific Martina Gedeck (The Lives of Others) delivers a career-defining performance as a writer on a retreat in the Austrian Alps who soon discovers she's separated from the outside world by an invisible barrier. Haunting and astonishingly beautiful, The Wall is a visual hymn to the fortitude of the human spirit and a truly mesmerising experience.

10.

The Extraordinary Adventures of Adèle Blanc-Sec

(France: d. Luc Besson, 2010)

The joker in the pack, The Extraordinary Adventures of Adèle Blanc-Sec is an unapologetically irreverent and loopy romp that makes Raiders of the Lost Ark look like a wilfully pretentious student film. Louise Bourgoin lights up the screen as the titular adventuress battling pterodactyls, Egyptian mummies and the occult in Paris at the turn of the last century. After this, you'll never look at a hatpin the same way again.

Joe Biden Drops Out of the US Presidential Race

Yeah, sorry; cheap shot, but I couldn't resist.

The Wages of Fear

"There's no place in America for this kind of violence [...] It's sick. It's one of the reasons we have to unite this country."

So said Joe Biden in his surprisingly coherent reaction to the attempted assassination of Donald Trump while the latter was speaking at a campaign rally in Pennsylvania.

No one can say they didn't see this coming. Oh, they can pretend - as I'm sure many liberal media outlets will in the days to come, especially now we know Trump's safe and well - but you have to be approaching Tommy-levels of deaf, dumb and blind to miss where all the post-2016 toxicity of the American political landscape has been heading. What's more, you need to be a bloody good actor to make trite statements about uniting a divided country sound remotely convincing or sincere when you've spent the last four years smearing half the population as bigots and potential insurrectionists. And for what: finding your opponent's policy positions fairer and more sensible than yours?

But then, honesty requires reflection - and I somehow doubt in the aftermath of today's events there'll be much of that from Biden, the Democrats or their sock puppets in the media, heartily cheering on every anti-Trump calumny their masters have put their way while casually inventing several of their own for good measure.

Regardless of who was behind this (and I'm keeping an open mind on that), for many this will be the last straw: conclusive proof of Trump's near-martyrdom at the hands of Permanent Washington and their backers.

And who can blame them?