order to achieve a drama of this calibre. Stewart re-filled his glass from a bottle by his foot. Modesty forbade basking in glory.
Maggie now felt brave enough to join in, so she put her hand up firmly, gaining Fenella’s attention as the laughter subsided.
“Yes – ah, Maggie,” said Fenella.
“I just wondered why it presented such a negative image of women.” Her nerves amplified her voice. There was a shocked silence, which she misinterpreted as interest in what she had to say, so she elaborated, “Every one of the women was a victim. None of them really tried to fight back, apart from the one who got acid thrown in her face.”
Maggie’s face grew hot as people looked round at her, wondering who the hell she was with her daft opinions. The silence was horrendous. She hadn’t meant to launch an attack on Stewart, she merely spoke as she found. She wanted desperately to explain that actually she was a great fan of Stewart’s work and that he should receive her criticism in that context… but, fearing it would sound like she was trying to retract her opinion, she said nothing.
Fenella appeared to feel sorry for her: “You found it offensive.” Maggie tried to deny it, but Fenella didn’t stop. “Well that’s a point of view, anyone agree or disagree?”
Sally put up her hand, “ I didn’t think it was offensive at all. The whole purpose of it is to show the endemic violence against women on inner city estates. The women are the victims so how else do you want them portrayed?”
Maggie was surprised that Sally seemed so antagonistic towards her, she thought they had established some sort of loose friendship over lunch. She felt the majority mentally gathering behind Sally. She glanced at Stewart and saw him smirking into his wine glass. She knew she was right – maybe she hadn’t made herself clear; she decided to try again.
“But it doesn’t leave any room for hope. It’s all so bleak and nihilistic.”
“That’s because Bradford is bleak!” Sally’s tone verged on the superior. “Have you ever been there?” This raised another laugh. Maggie felt furious with this wretched woman who knew nothing at all about Bradford, and didn’t realise that it was Maggie’s home ground; nevertheless it was Sally who was hitting the right note with the crowd. Maggie wouldn’t be walked over.
“I know, but supposing you lived there and you watched the film, how would you feel about it? Wouldn’t you want to think that maybe it wasn’t hopeless and you might be able to overcome the situation somehow?”
Sally had no answer to this so she shrugged as if it were irrelevant, then looked at Jonathan and raised her eyes at him. He politely failed to respond, but his raised eyebrows and downcast eyes indicated solidarity with Sally. Maggie felt angry. This wasn’t going at all the way she had intended. She had hoped to impress Stewart with her insight and her political analysis, but Sally had got to her, and once she was involved in an argument Maggie always felt compelled to see it through.
“I’d be very interested to know how it was received in Bradford,” she said. Fenella, wearing an amused expression, looked over her half-moon glasses at Maggie and then turned to Stewart, inviting him to answer. He dropped his cigarette into a half-empty wine glass and glanced shrewdly at Maggie, who held his gaze.
“Unfortunately neither the ratings nor the audience appreciation figures are broken down by regions as small as that. Of course we do know that inner city viewers are inclined to select ITV or BBC1 as a matter of choice, so given that Death went out on 2 on a Saturday night, I rather doubt whether we succeeded in diverting very many council estate inhabitants from more urgent affairs down the pub.” The audience smiled. “To be perfectly frank, my dear, Screen Two is really for a few million viewers from South East England and the chattering classes in North West London! If we can bring the
Maggie now felt brave enough to join in, so she put her hand up firmly, gaining Fenella’s attention as the laughter subsided.
“Yes – ah, Maggie,” said Fenella.
“I just wondered why it presented such a negative image of women.” Her nerves amplified her voice. There was a shocked silence, which she misinterpreted as interest in what she had to say, so she elaborated, “Every one of the women was a victim. None of them really tried to fight back, apart from the one who got acid thrown in her face.”
Maggie’s face grew hot as people looked round at her, wondering who the hell she was with her daft opinions. The silence was horrendous. She hadn’t meant to launch an attack on Stewart, she merely spoke as she found. She wanted desperately to explain that actually she was a great fan of Stewart’s work and that he should receive her criticism in that context… but, fearing it would sound like she was trying to retract her opinion, she said nothing.
Fenella appeared to feel sorry for her: “You found it offensive.” Maggie tried to deny it, but Fenella didn’t stop. “Well that’s a point of view, anyone agree or disagree?”
Sally put up her hand, “ I didn’t think it was offensive at all. The whole purpose of it is to show the endemic violence against women on inner city estates. The women are the victims so how else do you want them portrayed?”
Maggie was surprised that Sally seemed so antagonistic towards her, she thought they had established some sort of loose friendship over lunch. She felt the majority mentally gathering behind Sally. She glanced at Stewart and saw him smirking into his wine glass. She knew she was right – maybe she hadn’t made herself clear; she decided to try again.
“But it doesn’t leave any room for hope. It’s all so bleak and nihilistic.”
“That’s because Bradford is bleak!” Sally’s tone verged on the superior. “Have you ever been there?” This raised another laugh. Maggie felt furious with this wretched woman who knew nothing at all about Bradford, and didn’t realise that it was Maggie’s home ground; nevertheless it was Sally who was hitting the right note with the crowd. Maggie wouldn’t be walked over.
“I know, but supposing you lived there and you watched the film, how would you feel about it? Wouldn’t you want to think that maybe it wasn’t hopeless and you might be able to overcome the situation somehow?”
Sally had no answer to this so she shrugged as if it were irrelevant, then looked at Jonathan and raised her eyes at him. He politely failed to respond, but his raised eyebrows and downcast eyes indicated solidarity with Sally. Maggie felt angry. This wasn’t going at all the way she had intended. She had hoped to impress Stewart with her insight and her political analysis, but Sally had got to her, and once she was involved in an argument Maggie always felt compelled to see it through.
“I’d be very interested to know how it was received in Bradford,” she said. Fenella, wearing an amused expression, looked over her half-moon glasses at Maggie and then turned to Stewart, inviting him to answer. He dropped his cigarette into a half-empty wine glass and glanced shrewdly at Maggie, who held his gaze.
“Unfortunately neither the ratings nor the audience appreciation figures are broken down by regions as small as that. Of course we do know that inner city viewers are inclined to select ITV or BBC1 as a matter of choice, so given that Death went out on 2 on a Saturday night, I rather doubt whether we succeeded in diverting very many council estate inhabitants from more urgent affairs down the pub.” The audience smiled. “To be perfectly frank, my dear, Screen Two is really for a few million viewers from South East England and the chattering classes in North West London! If we can bring the
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