IMPORTANT: This review contains SPOILERS. Massive great honking ones. If you haven’t ever seen Press Gang (Seriously?! Are you a KD?!!! What are you even doing here reading this, you fool?! Click right on over to Amazon, buy yourself the complete series boxset and remedy that situation immediately before you read any further…)
There used to be a tradition in episodic television drama with an ensemble cast that in the interests of rounding-out the characters, each one would take centre-stage for a week. This had the added benefit of providing the writer with a baseline structure to build around, and with 12 or 13 episodes to deliver in one block, it might prove invaluable if one found oneself flailing around desperately to fill an occasional gaping Lack of Plot upon which to liberally sprinkle Spike and Lynda banter…
And so it is that we arrive at the first Frazz Episode of Press Gang.
Frazer Davis has suffered a rather wobbly development path to this point. After a strong beginning as Spike’s best buddy and partner in reportage, Frazz drifts gently into the Press Gang B-List during the course of Series 1. Along the way we watch him struggle and persevere with his Junior Gazette horoscopes, a laughable task which Lynda dumped on him simply in order to keep him out of her hair, even though she naturally wants him to do it properly (“Again, less stupid.”) Although Lynda’s opinion of Frazz as a KD isn’t explicitly stated, it is implicit in the mean-yet-amusing star sign teasing in Photo Finish, and her nickname for him in the same episode. Lynda lumps Frazz and Spike together in the ‘cute but dumb’ category, although it’s never clear whether he’s Bambi or Thumper.
Frazz’s friendship with Spike is long-standing and well-established (although it seems he is not part of the ‘gang’). They work together easily, and socialise, and he has observed behaviour in Spike which he has no hesitation ribbing him about (“You always did like the bossy types.”) It’s hard to imagine these two as rival figures, as pitched in the original Press Gang treatment, which outlines Frazz as the leader of the Setz. This may go some way to explain why Frazz’s characterisation throughout Series 1 is somewhat fluid, being so radically changed from Da Boss’s initial vision.
Frazz’s prickly attitude towards Lynda, and specifically in relation to Spike, will develop in episodes to come, but we have had a small taster already in Photo Finish, when he informs the stunned A-Listers that Spike managed to secure an interview with Amanda Swanson. We see him shoulder to shoulder with Spike in One Easy Lesson as they team up to bully the oiks into behaving for Mr Knowles, and again in How To Make A Killing, when they deliver a deft masterclass in how to be laddish twats. As early as Deadline, however, Frazz is being sidelined to the Silly Corner, as he schemes with Tiddler to predict next week’s sports results, and dons comedy zits to buy glue in How To Make A Killing. Thereafter, we see him playing the role of Colin’s dogsbody: disguised ninja-style as The Mystery Writer in Interface, almost certainly doing a lot of off-screen pigeon-wrangling in Money Love & Birdseed, and then promoted to the notionally dizzy heights of Deputy Editor in Shouldn’t I Be Taller?, when although he is still just doing the horoscopes, cashing in on them by making them available on an 0800 number must surely be a core aspect of Colin’s business plan for The Gaz.
Series 2 signals a change. Notably, Mmoloki Chrystie has been promoted to appear in the opening credits, and Frazz is granted a moment or two of glorious vindication, as his horoscopes start becoming spookily accurate in Breakfast at Czars. He is also the first one to spot Colin’s bizarre behaviour with the locked box, although he is not – perhaps surprisingly – part of the intrigue, and it is left to Kenny to get practical with a hammer and chisel.
Picking Up The Pieces sees Frazz returned to the role of Colin’s minder/moral support/patsy. Dragged along to a local chess match, he displays his characteristic lack of enthusiasm, slumped semi-conscious in the auditorium as Colin bristles with the anticipation of signing a potentially lucrative new client to his fledgling talent agency. Colin’s business doesn’t interest Frazz in the slightest. Neither does chess. And neither, apparently, does Suzy Norton.
However, a little later in the local library we are treated to a brand new and unexpected side to Frazer Davis… Suzy’s a chess nerd, and Frazz is in the process of being done up like a kipper by Colin, but see the flirting! Who would have thought it?
Bless him. On the surface Frazz may be painted as slow-witted and lacking in dynamic energy, but I have always suspected that he is hiding his light under a bushel to ensure a quiet life. Certainly there is a twinkle in his eye and a spark of engagement that we have never witnessed from him before as he talks to Suzy. And even though he seems unable to grasp the basics of the game (“Horse.”), Frazz remains sufficiently determined to impress the girl that he purchases a Chess for Idiots book at the local WH Smiths… and that’s before Colin and Suzy spring their little surprise on him. His inability to master even the rudiments of the game doesn’t prove he is a KD, merely that he prioritises things differently. He’s not a schemer or a planner; strategic thinking is very obviously not his thing. Instead, he acts on instinct and follows his heart. Ultimately, he goes along with Colin’s scheme because he fancies Suzy rotten.
And so, without a glimmer of remorse (and even after being pushed in the canal and becoming fetchingly draped in weed) Colin manages to rail-road Frazz into an impossible corner, just as he will do to Kenny later in this series. Resplendent in his bespoke chequered jacket, Colin hosts the ‘Battle of the Giants’, and remains blithely optimistic that Frazz will somehow put on a good show, despite indisputable evidence to the contrary. Mr Mathews can even sell a brazen lie to himself, it seems.
There is indeed a mighty fine, headline-grabbing show, just not the sort that Colin was hoping for. Finally admitting the truth in front of the paying audience of chessophiles, Frazz manages to charm Suzy away from the table and out for a wild evening of definitely-not-chess fun and frolics.
Although Colin and Frazz probably get equal screen time in this episode, Picking Up The Pieces is unquestionably The Frazz Episode: everything we are shown of Colin here merely echoes what we already know, whereas we get to see Frazz from a brand new perspective. He has a cute nose we hadn’t spotted before, an utterly outrageous twinkle in his eye, and he is a TinTin fan. We shouldn’t be surprised that Frazz let matters get so far out of hand: he travels the path of least resistance. right up to the last possible moment, and has been sucked along in the wake of the juggernaut that is Colin’s enthusiasm. But there is a twisted streak of admirable bravery and honesty in the way he comes clean so publicly, given that he could have simply ‘disappeared’ for the night. Not only does Frazz win the girl, but he also manages to ensure that Colin is left to deal with the fall-out of telling a big fat lie. Not too shabby for a KD.
ps. Turns out Spike and Lynda are becoming increasing obsessed with each other… Who would have seen that coming?!?!
Lynda is haunted by a memory of a carved wooden ornament, and feels genuine guilt over something – but she can’t remember what. Lynda generally avoids the emotive resonance of guilty feelings – even in the next season’s The Last Word, with its shocking denouement – only really allowing herself to explore the question of blame during the fireside chat of the programme’s finale. Resultantly, it’s an uneasy Lynda who realises that she can’t suppress, or alleviate, this guilt until she find out what is causing it. All that she can remember is that it seems to be linked to Kenny’s birthday a decade earlier, when she escaped from her garden and found herself on nearby Jasper Street.
This small, but captivating, mystery is the main focus of the episode. Spike and Colin offer the broad comedy this week with their attempts to move the affections of a girl from the former to the latter. More interestingly, Gabrielle Anwar’s Sam spars with Kenny using dialogue no doubt originally intended for Lucy Benjamin’s Julie, but played entirely differently. When Sam says that she doesn’t understand the words Kenny uses, Anwar plays it with a twinkle in her eye (is ‘I don’t understand’ code for ‘I’m not interested’?, the audience wonders), whereas Benjamin’s Julie would have been genuinely confused. Both actors offered strong performances in the two roles, but they also present very different readings of what could have been an identical part, which is credit to them both.
For a younger audience the mystery surrounding a vague memory of a carved wooden figure maintains the interest, but the reinforcement of the friendship between Kenny and Lynda provides the real delight for older viewers. Knocking on the front door of the Jasper Street house in question, Kenny asks, “Remember we used to do this and run away?”, to which Lynda replies: “I ran away. You stayed and apologised”. In one tiny, neatly remembered memory we not only get a joke but a reinforcement of the characters – Lynda’s headstrong persona versus Kenny’s polite keenness to do the ‘right’ thing.
The opening ‘Ten Years Ago’ flashback allows us to see the genesis of a friendship that would mature (a little) over the coming decade. It’s Kenny’s birthday, which a six year old Lynda refuses to acknowledge – even going so far as to hide the present she is supposed to give him. Nevertheless, Kenny covers for her when Lynda’s annoyed mother tries to track her down, setting up the dynamic of their future friendship. Such young actors cannot be expected to offer a great deal of depth in their performances, but the younger Kenny’s constant smile offers a deflection of Lynda’s meanness, while he also acknowledges it by verbally challenging her claims.
It’s perhaps surprising that Lynda is particularly obnoxious as a young child, raising the horrifying prospect that the Lynda we know and love from the ‘present day’ has, in fact, mellowed over time. For the teenage Lynda, it’s not that she enjoys being mean, it’s just that she doesn’t get anything out of being nice. By contrast, in the flashback she’s borderline sociopathic, casually lying to her mother for no particular reason in the opening scene. Given that he protects Lynda without a second thought, even as a young child, we can draw one of two conclusions – either Kenny was either a glutton for punishment from a young age, or (preferably) he sees through it as a defence mechanism. In the end, Kenny’s emotional maturity is more than a match for Lynda’s stubbornness.
When, in the flashback, Kenny literally turns up as Lynda’s knight in shining (plastic) armour, he is met with her riposte: “He followed me! He always follows me!” She may be ungrateful on the surface, but when we see the young Lynda and Kenny walking down the path at the episode’s conclusion, we see that she is really rather pleased. A decade later, on the same road, Lynda says “Sometimes I think I’m not a very nice person”. “Well I like you”, Kenny responds, only to be met with Lynda’s dismissive claim that “You like everyone!”. She may give the impression of being as dismissive as ever, but this time, when Lynda realises that Kenny is following her, she can’t hide her smile…
Press Gang @ 35 