Wimbledon (BBC One/BBC Two) | iPlayer
Evacuation (Channel 4) | channel4.com
The Horror of Delores Roach (Amazon Prime Video)
The Idol (Sky Atlantic/Now)
So, to Wimbledon for the opening days of the BBC coverage of the tennis championships, and what is the prime focus? The subject debated in hushed tones, in between every slice and thwack of the yellow fluffy balls.
Not the returning champion, Novak Djokovic, arriving hungry as a grinning wolf for his fifth straight Wimbledon title. Not 20-year-old Spanish wunderkind Carlos Alcaraz, observed dispatching his first opponent with the languid ferocity of youth. Not the absent: Nick Kyrgios (injured); Serena Williams (retired). Not Andy Murray, gamely rocking up with his metal hip, like the RoboCop of British tennis. Not even newly retired Roger Federer, receiving a standing ovation at Centre Court, sitting next to the Princess of Wales like sleek European royalty, which in a way he is.
The burning topic for presenters and commentators (including new main presenter Clare Balding, and the likes of Tim Henman and Annabel Croft), is of course the weather. In the opening days, the rain thundered down, pelting on to rippling tarpaulin, crashing against the roofs of Centre Court and No 1 Court, reminding some spectators of dark “before times” when they had to mark themselves safe from Cliff Richards’s singing. Is there a sadder, soggier sight than brollies on “Henman Hill”? All the wet stuff threatened the sacred turf. As workers toiled with driers, screens threw up the first classic image of Wimbledon 2023: Djokovic drolly helping to dry out Centre Court with his towel.
Wimbledon is a Sue Barker-free zone for the first time in decades. The longtime main presenter, our unassuming queen of the grass courts, retired last year. Although it was “on her own terms” (she was offered a three-year extension), I can’t shake the feeling Barker felt nudged (she and others had been let go from A Question of Sport). Oh to natter with Sue over a £2.50 punnet of strawberries and cream about what she really felt about all that.
In fairness to her replacement, Balding’s Brown Owlenergy appears to be bedding in nicely, while unflappable Isa Guha is piloting earlier shifts. There are road bumps (I end up foraging in iPlayer, hunting for beginnings and ends of matches), and enough rain-fuelled filler to clad another roof, but it barely matters. Rain or shine, Wimbledon is the Glastonbury of TV sport: British summers don’t feel properly started without it.
The roughest viewing of the week, running over three nights, was James Newton’s Channel 4 docuseries Evacuation. It tells the story of British troops flying UK citizens and eligible Afghans out of Kabul as the country fell under Taliban rule in August 2021.
Assorted military personnel relate the excruciating events: of panicking crowds flocking to the airport; of families standing in sewage trenches for days in roasting heat in the hope of escape; of devices exploding and severed wrists being found with Casio watches still attached; of desperate people clinging to the side of a plane as it takes off, only to inevitably, sickeningly, fall.
There’s scant relief from the roiling darkness (a baby is born, but into what?). While you get a keen sense of Westminster incompetence, this is about what happened during those final terrible days on the ground. The military personnel talk of what they did, who they helped, who they had to leave behind, sometimes with tears in their eyes. When Diana, an RAF police squadron leader, mentions a “PTSD stone” she uses to remind herself she’s no longer there, there’s a fleeting insight into the immense psychological toll.
Evacuation is extremely military-centric, understandably so, but the series would have benefited from featuring a few more civilian voices and experiences. Still, here is a “talking history” of the recent past told skilfully, with brutal simplicity. The visceral stories and raw images linger, flickering, in the mind for days.
Move over Dexter Morgan, there’s a new sympathetic serial killer in town. The Horror of Dolores Roach (Amazon Prime Video) is Aaron Marks’s eight-part adaptation of his hit Spotify podcast of the same name.
Justina Machado (Six Feet Under) stars as the titular Dolores, who is released from jail after 16 years to discover that her New York patch, Washington Heights, has been gentrified, and her friend Luis (a magnificently unhinged Alejandro Hernandez) still runs his family empanada business. Dolores puts her “magic hands” to work as a masseuse, but also ends up using them for darker purposes.
Cue a Sweeney Todd-adjacent horror-comedy (think The Bear suffused with blood-soaked psychosis). The Horror of Dolores Roach doesn’t stint on gore (it might be too butcher’s shop window for some) and delivers ripe, gothic dialogue (“Flesh is flesh”) and casting treats, such as Cyndi Lauper as a private investigator, mooching through scenes like a Big Apple punk-pop Columbo.
Even in short, half-hour-ish bursts, the relentless archness and escalations start to chafe, but Machado is great (“I don’t wanna be a serial killer”), and there’s a winning trippy brio to it all.
Finally, some sad news: not that the Sam Levinson (Euphoria) co-created music-industry folly The Idol has now finished on Sky Atlantic, but that it ever started.
Is it truly that bad? Oh yes, to the bitter end (with some mangled messaging about tables turning). Fallen corrupter Tedros (Abel Tesfaye, AKA the Weeknd) ends up stalking around “tormented”, which he conveys by wearing sunglasses indoors and dressing like a Lenny Kravitz kissogram. Meanwhile, poplet Jocelyn (Lily-Rose Depp) prospers with her deranged electro-swingers sound (imagine aural pampas grass), dancing around, clutching her neck, either sexily choking herself, or trying to signal the first-ever case of Auto-Tuned laryngitis.
The Idol’s laboured dialogue (“There’s a goldmine in mental illness”) is bad enough, but dreary musical skits make the entire production feel like an advert for the Weeknd crossed with an interminable soundcheck.
I feel sorry for Depp, who doubtless thought she was the lead in some dark, daring music-biz parable, but instead merely guest-starred in what may be the beginning of the end of Levinson’s career. Bring back Euphoria, make it good, and all may yet be forgiven.
Star ratings (out of five)
Wimbledon ★★★★
Evacuation ★★★★
The Horror of Delores Roach ★★★
The Idol ★
What else I’m watching
The Effects of Lying
(ITVX)
A one-off drama appearing as part of South Asian Heritage Month about festering family secrets. Although a little meandering, it’s beautifully performed by a cast that includes Ace Bhatti and Laila Rouass.
Wham!
(Netflix)
It’s a scientifically proven pop fact that there’s no such thing as too much Wham! This new documentary looks into the relationship between 1980s “young guns” George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley.
Then You Run
(Sky Atlantic)
A new thriller from Ben Chanan (The Capture) in which London teenagers go on the run across Europe. Watch out for a truly harrowing sequence following a predator in a snowbound traffic jam.
