Nothing’s ever simple, is it? Meghan and Harry’s £15m Spotify deal was ended early, in June, after just one series of Meghan’s Archetypes podcast, without anything like the full whack being paid to the Sussexes. The platform and the couple parted by mutual agreement, according to the latter, and because they were “grifters” who hadn’t met the productivity targets required, according to senior Spotify executive Bill Simmons. Simmons had previously complained that Harry “just whines about shit and keeps giving interviews”. Though, to be fair, ex-Prince Hal often did the two simultaneously, which is quite efficient in its own way.
Still, it means that only the £81m Netflix deal is still standing, under which they are supposed to produce a mix of feature films, scripted shows, children’s programming, documentaries and docu-series. To wit, the Live to Lead film broadcast last New Year’s Eve – no, me neither – and the six episodes of Harry and Meghan. This was about Harry and Meghan’s lives, work and limitless love for each other and everyone else in the world with the exception of the press, most senior royals and some brothers and a sister-in-law. Please see Harry’s memoir, Spare, published at much the same time, for further details.
Which means that the new documentary series from Archewell Productions carries some doubtless unwanted baggage. (This, of course, is over and above the fact that the company is named after the duke and duchess’s firstborn, Archie; I hope second-born Lilibet pitches a fit every time it is mentioned, if she’s not already pitching one about having been called Lilibet in the first place.) Will Heart of Invictus be enough to keep the execs sweet? Will it build the brand or undermine it? Will it signify growth or confirm grifterdom?
It should buy the pair some time. Partly because it is about something concrete, something pre-“Megxit” and all the concomitant fuss. It also focuses on something that has proven itself to be a genuine force for good – the Invictus Games, founded by Prince Harry (although, in the episodes I’ve had time to watch, the programme doesn’t namecheck the US’s Warrior Games, which he visited in 2013 and have been cited as his inspiration). First held in London in 2014, the Invictus Games is an international sports and athletics event for physically and mentally injured military personnel that functions as a kind of multidisciplinary rehab process and celebration of all that can be conquered as a result of awful experiences.
Luckily, someone has kept a firm grip on Harry, heading off any sliding into personal vendettas before it can pollute the atmosphere. He is clearly still furious about the leak regarding his presence in Afghanistan that meant he had to leave 10 weeks into his tour but – he mentions the lack of support around him when he faced his “unravelling” thereafter – you can practically hear the groan of effort as he pulls himself out of the potential dive into score settling.
What remains is a solid quintet of episodes that follow a handful of Invictus competitors from around the globe, who are dealing with becoming physically disabled, mentally assaulted by post-traumatic stress disorder and often some measure of both. Many have taken refuge in drink and drugs, some have made suicide attempts (one of the statistics given is that in the US, 22 veterans a day take their own lives), others have been trapped in depression and anxiety. Many have lost family and friends as everyone has struggled to come to terms with new lives shorn of so many of the things they depended on for happiness before.
The power of sport to unite people, to reopen a world, to provide community, support, stimulation, distraction, a focus on a higher purpose is everywhere on show. But the films resist a relentlessly triumphalist narrative and the temptation to present Invictus – or sport generally – as a universal panacea. There are many references to the thousands who cannot be given places on the teams, and we see various other support services in different countries.
The heart of the series, however, is – by virtue of her charisma and by force of terrible circumstance – Yuliia “Taira” Paievska, whom we first meet as a volunteer paramedic on the Ukrainian-Russian border. She is in effect invalided out after two heart attacks and, helped by training for the Ukrainian Invictus team, is just getting used to the idea of returning to civilian life when Russia invades. She is captured and tortured, but the publicity the 2022 Games gives to her story helps secure her release. Hers is the last face we see at the close of the series, and her story elevates the whole. By the end we have alighted on the proper subject; war and the pity of war.
Heart of Invictus is on Netflix.
In the UK and Ireland, Samaritans can be contacted on freephone 116 123, or email jo@samaritans.org or jo@samaritans.ie. In the US, you can call or text the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline on 988, chat on 988lifeline.org, or text HOME to 741741 to connect with a crisis counselor. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is 13 11 14. Other international helplines can be found at befrienders.org
