TV review: Alan Davies's Teenage Revolution

Published on Thursday 9 September 2010 11:45

Alan Davies's Teenage Revolution Channel 4

If ONE were to compile a list of people best qualified to deliver a revealing commentary on the sociopolitical climate of the 1980s, comedian Alan Davies would be notable by his absence. If, however, one was tasked with employing someone best qualified to present a nostalgic account of the early life of Alan Davies, then Alan Davies would be a strong contender.

It would be unwise to fuse these disparate programme ideas into an unsatisfying whole. Unfortunately, Alan Davies's Teenage Revolution does just that.

This new series, he announced, would not be yet another cosy nostalgia-fest in which a comedian manufactures memories about SodaStream. Instead, it's a unique analysis of the Eighties refracted through the prism of Davies's own growing pains. How else are we supposed to contextualise the tectonic shifts of 1980s Britain without exploring the origins of Alan Davies?

His intentions were probably sincere, but the programme bore an uneasy mix of styles. Half lighthearted celebrity memoir, half serious social document, it was neither funny nor insightful enough to succeed as either.

Amiable and self-deprecating, but with nothing significant to say about his subject, Davies revisited his middle-class suburban stomping ground to recount mild tales of youthful rebellion. Inspired by sitcom revolutionary Citizen Smith and irascible tennis icon John McEnroe, the teenage Davies reacted against the benign conformity of his father (his mother died when he was six) and public school education by shoplifting, smoking and riding a motorbike. Why we should care, I have no idea.

Undaunted, he repeatedly made trite, tenuous comparisons between his supposed unravelling and the social upheaval of the 1980s. Entertaining fantasies about burning down your school does not, to my mind, strike obvious parallels with civil unrest and blazing inner city riots. Nevertheless, cue scenes of people clashing with armed policemen scored to Babylon's Burning by The Ruts. As bloody usual.

He broached the racial tensions of Thatcher's Britain with an anecdote about being briefly ostracised after shaking hands with a black kid at football. This powerful reminiscence sparked an awkward sequence in which Davies sought absolution from an Asian shopkeeper he and his friends once tormented. The old man forgave him and everyone smiled and laughed as the universal dream of racial equality inched further towards reality.

Davies also spoke to a onetime "Paki bashing" skinhead who looked uncomfortable while recounting his violent youth, either because he'd changed his ways or because he didn't want to look like a racist on camera. His decrepit Dad proved similarly reticent until Davies encouraged him to speak up. A BNP supporter, he cheerfully railed against the influx of "coloured people". Davies was dumbfounded, out of his depth. A whimsical retort, while all very well within the confines of QI, is of little value when conversing with racist pensioners.

In conclusion, Davies pulled a thoughtful face and mumbled something about unemployment and class while perched atop a playground slide. It didn't really matter. The main thing was that the programme allowed him to meet his teenage hero Paul Weller. So that was nice.