Ashes
to Ashes was in trouble the moment the title was first conceived.
Like Life on Mars (the UK version), Ashes to Ashes
takes its name from a David Bowie song released in the exact year
that the series is set and provides the backdrop for that time
period. I don’t know that David Bowie was still such a strong
influence in the 80s that one of his songs had to be used again, but
this choice is indicative of everything that follows in Ashes to
Ashes; whereas Life on Mars made sense in context as the
title for a police drama about a detective of the 21st
century inexplicably sent back in time to 1973 following a near fatal
accident (“It’s like I’ve landed on a different planet”),
Ashes to Ashes does not relate to any of this, despite being
the exact same story all over again in 1981 with the same cast of
hard-hitting, change averse detectives fightin’ crime, retro style.
This
main difference is that this time, we know that our main character
has not physically travelled back in time and is not insane (though
in this particular person’s case, that’s up for debate) but in a
coma, suspended between life and death, with occasional breakthroughs
between the real world and the imagined one. So, the Ashes to
Ashes title relates to the theme of death, but it seems like more
of an excuse to use Bowie again. Wasn’t Boy George an icon then?
They could have called the whole thing Dogging with Strangers
and it wouldn’t have detracted much from it. They are police
officers, after all. They must encounter it sometimes.
Ashes to Ashes is full of of cheesy rip-offs from popular
films and shows from the 80s. Unlike the clever cameos and rib-digs
of LoM, AtA watches like someone wanted an excuse to “do the
80s”. Admittedly, LoM played out a lot like Back to the
Future in that our beloved Sam made exactly the same kind of
cumbersome errors that Marty McFly did, by mentioning CCTV and Chunky
Kit Kats rather than John F Kennedy and TaB. I always wondered how,
if one came to the 70s from the Tweens, one could possibly be behind
everyone else; I had to conclude that Sam was a bit of an idiot
whenever he wasn’t busting out overly complex theories for criminal
motivation. Incidentally, TaB (the doomed soft drink that went out in
the 80s) makes an appearance in AtA - I think someone in the
creative team has a bit of an obsessive crush on Back to the
Future, seeing as here in Britain, TaB was never hugely popular
so it isn’t really a relevant cultural reference.
LoM redeemed itself for whatever small parts of pop culture it
ripped off by having genuine sparkle and true grit, seamlessly
interwoven. The top dog of 1973’s detective division was the tough,
blunt, determined Gene Hunt and he was a joy because he was the kind
of anti-hero your average younger viewer hadn’t seen before. We
couldn’t get enough of him; Hunt was rude but effective, smart but
without airs and graces. I don’t know if he is the trend setter for
the current fashion for other identical anti-heroes (now two-a-penny)
or if he was just one of the first few in a rapidly growing number,
but nonetheless he was one of the most effective and likable of the
bunch, with his pure motivations in juxtaposition against his
questionable policing methods.
You can tell that this character creation was a hit, because his
return to AtA is marked with a few faintly ridiculous refrains
of inappropriately epic music, as if God himself has turned up to
save the day. Hunt may have had a bit of a Messiah complex, so let’s
hope the bright sparks who gave that music the go-ahead were having a
laugh with themselves. It felt more like they were saying: “Here he
is, ladies and gentlemen: the one you’ve all been waiting for.”
Yes, we were waiting for him. Fans of the old series might have found
it very challenging to envision a sequel to their beloved LoM
without The Gov. It would have been a brave move not to include
him, but as it is, I felt as though we were expected to applaud them
for managing to snare Philip Glenister for a third season. Steady,
gentleman. An actor can only be as good as his script, so let’s not
celebrate too soon.
What of the script? Well, it hasn’t charmed me the way LoM
did, but then again, that would be a tall order. I like that there
has been some, if not a huge amount, of character development; male
chauvinist Ray has toned it down since working alongside women for
eight years (though not nearly as much as you’d expect), goofy
Chris is more confident yet still next-to-useless and Hunt has had
the wind taken out his sails a bit since the 1973 version of Sam
“died”. He’s calmer, more world-weary and while not completely
up-to-date on the political correctness front, increasingly sees the
value in different types of people on his small but dedicated team. I
liked the way Gene seemed to have aged, not physically but mentally.
At the same time, The Gov was always the one who brought the most
energy to the team. This has been saturated, as instead of charging
in with just his balls of steel for company, he charges in with a
machine gun worthy of a contemporary American conspiracy thriller.
Yes, I know it was a joke – a weak hit on The A-Team or
Miami Vice, I don’t care which. I didn’t appreciate it.
What have they done to my Gov? It used to be that he was serious when
he needed to be serious, flippant when he didn’t. Now he’s
flippant when he needs to be serious and serious when his crude jokes
would be most welcome, if only to take away the bitter taste of Alex
Drake, our new Sam Tyler.
And oh, what an annoying person you are, Alex Drake. When Ray said,
in his charming way, that nobody who gets periods should be a
detective, I was rather hoping you would prove him wrong. It doesn’t
take a neurosurgeon to confuse Ray – a laser pointer would probably
do it. Instead, Alex more or less backs up this assertion, ranting
and raving at the least provocation, flying into rages and roaring
about being out of her time, generally coming across as nutty as a
fruitcake.
I always wondered how Sam got away with that behaviour without being
instantly clapped into a straight jacket, but by comparison, Sam was
calm and level-headed about his situation; when a case came up, he
tried to crack it - not only because it might be parallel to
what was happening in the real world and it might help him to
wake up, but because he was an experienced Detective and enjoyed
cracking cases. Alex Drake takes three steps, throws a hissy fit,
takes another three steps, has another hissy fit and continues in
this manner until she exhausts her rage and falls over. I’m not
exaggerating – Alex fainted twice in one episode.
How many women have you met that actually faint when they’re upset?
It doesn’t happen. I can’t make sense of it - the writers and
director for AtA are the same as for its predecessor; all men,
but nonetheless not poor at writing women - one of LoM’s
major characters was a detective called Annie who wasn’t at all
soft in the head. Gentle, yes, but not soft. Alex is the opposite –
outwardly harsh but composed largely of jelly. It’s doesn’t
really evoke much empathy.
I suppose you can understand why Alex’s marbles are spilling out
all over the floor; her daughter has been left in the 2000s and it’s
her birthday. Alex wants to get back to celebrate her birthday.
That’s all well and good, but for a person who thoroughly studied
Sam Tyler’s purported time travel, she doesn’t understand much or
cope with it well. Not only that but, quite frankly, I don’t care
much for her personal problems. It’s always the way with police
procedural dramas; they try and muscle in some personal stuff but it
ends up overshadowing the criminal stuff, which is the real meat of
the drama.
The reason I could accept Sam Tyler’s personal plights was because
they were tackled later in the series, when we were more familiar
with Sam’s character. We got to explore how his lack of interaction
with his own time period was damaging his personal relationships and
the affect his isolation was having on his psyche and wellbeing. I
mean, the man committed suicide the moment he regained consciousness.
That’s heavy stuff. Clearly something was festering in there for
too long.
I have limited sympathy for Alex’s daughter, the brainless child
who ran out into a hostage situation and risked her life because she
was worried for Mummy. Listen love: your mother is a trained
professional negotiator and top detective with experience in
psychology. She knows what she’s doing and you don’t. Stay the
hell away. This kid messed everything up and now we the viewers have
to hear her voice (presumably, a projection of Alex’s subconscious)
goading her mother about not being able to make it back for her
birthday. Well, great. Because I’m not emotionally attached to this
girl, all I can think is: “Piss off, you ungrateful little brat!”
The subconscious projections bring me neatly onto another comparison
worth noting. If you watched LoM, you’ll remember that the
little girl with the clown toy from the television in Sam’s room
used to come alive and scare the living shit out of him. Why was she
so scary? Because there was nothing inherently sinister about her –
and yet she was sinister. She was a little girl who popped up
out of nowhere and spoke out loud Sam’s most intimate doubts and
fears. She did this with the coldest, calmest passive aggression I’ve
ever heard. I think if I was in Sam’s position I’d promptly soil
myself. It also highlighted how Sam was becoming increasingly less
able to tell fantasy from reality.
There is a problem with AtA in this respect. We already know
that Alex is in a coma, or something similar. We found out about all
that at the end of LoM. Therefore, that element of “Is he
mad, in a coma or back in time?” is taken out. That means it needs
to be replaced with something else that is equally powerful. I won’t
lie, some interesting themes are dealt with – I like the idea that
the whole “in the past” reality is a half-way house for dying or
dead coppers who were caught up in violent crimes or complicated
circumstances. It’s an intriguing idea, but that’s it. Since you
don’t find this out until the very end, you don’t get much value
for money out of it.
The rest of it is filler. I was merely confused to see a man dressed
as some sort of clown puppet (another gratuitous 80s reference; it’s
a Bowie creation again) stalking Alex and making her scream at every
opportunity before disappearing and leaving behind one very startled
cat having a Jimmy Riddle against some bins. Additions like that make
AtA less like a sci-fi-esque police drama and more like a
psychological thriller – and you know what I think about those.
If suffers from typical sequel syndrome, where a creative team
wants to revitalise love for the old franchise without fully
understanding what it was about the old franchise that made it loved.
What with the flashing lights and experimental camera angles pointing
to the glaring black-and-white bold square ceiling panels of the
police headquarters, I won’t call Ashes to Ashes self-indulgent
tosh; I’ll call it comparatively self -indulgent tosh. Would
it look better if I had never seen Life on Mars? Probably.
Would I like it? Not really.
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