Rachael Eyre's Blog - Posts Tagged "prison-dramas"
Favourite Genres: Women's Prison Dramas
Certain settings are breeding grounds for drama. Newsrooms. Police stations. Spaceships. In recent years TV has returned to the same premise again and again: the hidden world of women's prisons.
The reasons for its popularity are manifold. As well as a mainly female cast (still a rarity in our male dominated media), it offers strong friendships, politics and alliances, violent feuds. It highlights the best and worst of human nature. And - a vital and, even nowadays - lesbian relationships aren't coy afterthoughts but fully realised.
The trend began with Bad Girls, a groundbreaking British series running from 1999 to 2006. It's sometimes described as "the female Oz", but that's underselling it. Although it devolved into panto in later years, the first three seasons are essential viewing. It looked unflinchingly at serious social issues: child abuse, euthanasia, harassment in the workplace, alcoholism, failings in the care system.
It started the grand tradition of the guards being as damaged as the women they lock up. Though cons came and went, everyone remembers Hollamby, the workshy misanthrope who punctuates everything with "My foot!" and "My bottom!" She must have been a peach of a part to play. For all her bitchiness and bile, Hollamby is a kitten compared with Jim Fenner. The Cro Magnon deputy officer, he's possibly the most dangerous person at HMP Larkhall. Scrape away the superficial charm and schmooze and you uncover a prolific fraud, pimp, rapist and murderer. He nearly always came out on top and made you need a wash. Ugh!
Bad Girls was one of the earliest shows to recognise that monsters are made, not born. Even the psychotic bully Shell Dockley had a tragic backstory, though this didn't excuse her behaviour. Many of the women committed crimes out of love: Julie S turned to prostitution to send her son to public school; Nikki Wade stabbed her girlfriend's rapist.
Indeed, it's with Nikki we come to the real legacy of Bad Girls: its portrayal of lesbian characters. The main arc of the first few series was the secret love between Nikki and Helen Stewart, Wing Governor and the face that launched a thousand sapphists. It wasn't played for shock value or titillation but as a slow burning, genuine connection that even the mustiest straights rooted for. It should come as no surprise that when Bad Girls was adapted for the West End (yes, really!), Helen and Nikki's romance was the central storyline.
Though Bad Girls holds a special place in my heart, there's now a pretender to the throne. This is none other than Wentworth, the gritty reboot of Australian camp classic Prisoner Cell Block H.
If Helen was the focal character of early Bad Girls, Bea Smith is undoubtedly Wentworth's. We watch her metamorphosis from battered wife to undisputed Top Dog, making her a far more nuanced character than the original. The same applies for many of the rewrites. Prison martinet Vinegar Tits is now Vera, a lonely, vulnerable workaholic; Pamela Rabe's rendition of Joan "the Freak" Ferguson has transformed her from a one note sadistic screw to Richard III in epaulettes. Her Machiavellian schemes and descent into madness are unmissable.
Despite its soapy origins, Wentworth has quickly become one of the best dramas in years. Unlike other shows, which stop and start storylines and suffer the occasional duff episode, it keeps its many plots bubbling away. While Prisoner hinted at sickening violence, Wentworth shows it full on.
It's also revolutionary in its depiction of LGBT characters. Although I love Helen and Nikki, at their raunchiest they were like a pair of Disney princesses frolicking in an enchanted forest. We first meet fan favourite Franky Doyle stark naked ploughing her fuck buddy; she progresses to a smouldering affair with the psychologist. There's Maxine, one of the first trans characters in a prison drama. Arrested for attacking her transphobic boyfriend, she overcomes the women's prejudices to become a valued ally.
That's not to say it's flawless. I have reservations about Juicy Lucy, a gruesome butch who goes around infecting enemies with hepatitis - tapping into all the negative stereotypes you can think of. Another character, Kaz Proctor, is a militant feminist who runs a sisterhood of misandrist vigilantes. I cringe whenever she appears.
Though detractors may accuse prison dramas of gratuitous sensationalism, they're much more than that. They examine a stratum of society we seldom see and debate topical issues. In the case of Helen and Nikki, they changed the representation of lesbian relationships on TV for good, giving them equal billing with their straight counterparts. Even more importantly, they invite discussion of the conditions in correctional institutions and the circumstances that lead women to offend in the first place. Great drama with a message - isn't that the whole point of TV?
The reasons for its popularity are manifold. As well as a mainly female cast (still a rarity in our male dominated media), it offers strong friendships, politics and alliances, violent feuds. It highlights the best and worst of human nature. And - a vital and, even nowadays - lesbian relationships aren't coy afterthoughts but fully realised.
The trend began with Bad Girls, a groundbreaking British series running from 1999 to 2006. It's sometimes described as "the female Oz", but that's underselling it. Although it devolved into panto in later years, the first three seasons are essential viewing. It looked unflinchingly at serious social issues: child abuse, euthanasia, harassment in the workplace, alcoholism, failings in the care system.
It started the grand tradition of the guards being as damaged as the women they lock up. Though cons came and went, everyone remembers Hollamby, the workshy misanthrope who punctuates everything with "My foot!" and "My bottom!" She must have been a peach of a part to play. For all her bitchiness and bile, Hollamby is a kitten compared with Jim Fenner. The Cro Magnon deputy officer, he's possibly the most dangerous person at HMP Larkhall. Scrape away the superficial charm and schmooze and you uncover a prolific fraud, pimp, rapist and murderer. He nearly always came out on top and made you need a wash. Ugh!
Bad Girls was one of the earliest shows to recognise that monsters are made, not born. Even the psychotic bully Shell Dockley had a tragic backstory, though this didn't excuse her behaviour. Many of the women committed crimes out of love: Julie S turned to prostitution to send her son to public school; Nikki Wade stabbed her girlfriend's rapist.
Indeed, it's with Nikki we come to the real legacy of Bad Girls: its portrayal of lesbian characters. The main arc of the first few series was the secret love between Nikki and Helen Stewart, Wing Governor and the face that launched a thousand sapphists. It wasn't played for shock value or titillation but as a slow burning, genuine connection that even the mustiest straights rooted for. It should come as no surprise that when Bad Girls was adapted for the West End (yes, really!), Helen and Nikki's romance was the central storyline.
Though Bad Girls holds a special place in my heart, there's now a pretender to the throne. This is none other than Wentworth, the gritty reboot of Australian camp classic Prisoner Cell Block H.
If Helen was the focal character of early Bad Girls, Bea Smith is undoubtedly Wentworth's. We watch her metamorphosis from battered wife to undisputed Top Dog, making her a far more nuanced character than the original. The same applies for many of the rewrites. Prison martinet Vinegar Tits is now Vera, a lonely, vulnerable workaholic; Pamela Rabe's rendition of Joan "the Freak" Ferguson has transformed her from a one note sadistic screw to Richard III in epaulettes. Her Machiavellian schemes and descent into madness are unmissable.
Despite its soapy origins, Wentworth has quickly become one of the best dramas in years. Unlike other shows, which stop and start storylines and suffer the occasional duff episode, it keeps its many plots bubbling away. While Prisoner hinted at sickening violence, Wentworth shows it full on.
It's also revolutionary in its depiction of LGBT characters. Although I love Helen and Nikki, at their raunchiest they were like a pair of Disney princesses frolicking in an enchanted forest. We first meet fan favourite Franky Doyle stark naked ploughing her fuck buddy; she progresses to a smouldering affair with the psychologist. There's Maxine, one of the first trans characters in a prison drama. Arrested for attacking her transphobic boyfriend, she overcomes the women's prejudices to become a valued ally.
That's not to say it's flawless. I have reservations about Juicy Lucy, a gruesome butch who goes around infecting enemies with hepatitis - tapping into all the negative stereotypes you can think of. Another character, Kaz Proctor, is a militant feminist who runs a sisterhood of misandrist vigilantes. I cringe whenever she appears.
Though detractors may accuse prison dramas of gratuitous sensationalism, they're much more than that. They examine a stratum of society we seldom see and debate topical issues. In the case of Helen and Nikki, they changed the representation of lesbian relationships on TV for good, giving them equal billing with their straight counterparts. Even more importantly, they invite discussion of the conditions in correctional institutions and the circumstances that lead women to offend in the first place. Great drama with a message - isn't that the whole point of TV?
