China isn’t just the most populous nation on earth, it’s also the oldest. Making The Story of China (BBC2) a big one, and a long one. Over 4,000 years long.
Not that Michael Wood is simply beginning at the beginning and embarking on his own Long March forward; that’s not the way he does things. He looks at themes and ideas – the things that make China what it is and the Chinese people what they are. Beginning with ancestors.
So we start at the end of the 19th century, with Michael at his first (of many) temples, where the emperor asked his and his country’s ancestors for help as China collided with the west. They didn’t (help) and the empire fell. Revolution – communist, then cultural – followed. And ancestors weren’t so important any more and were forgotten.
Now though, with China on the up again, its people are once again thinking of their – and their nation’s – ancestors. Michael joins the reunion of a family who have found the warmth of home again. Flesh and blood lies at the foundation of everything; the new way forward is anchored in the past. Basically, China has gone a bit Daily Mail, I think that’s what we’re saying. But the past here goes a very long way back, and now Michael goes back there too, to the beginning – the Yellow river, dragons and turtles, myths and mud, and the people that came out of it. I think I’m happier like this, doing history in the direction it actually went in. I find it easier to get a hold of.
Trouble is, when you go way back 4,000 years or so, there’s very little to actually see. No buildings, or even writing. Leaving us with Michael, wandering around another bloody temple in the rain, spinning his ancestral themes. And even when there is something to look at it’s just a bit of scratching on an old bone. Fantastically significant, archaeologically and historically, I can see, but from the position of the armchair in the living room, I’m finding it quite hard work.
It does get more fun, as time goes on, and dynasties emerge – Xia, Shang, Zhou, Qin, Han. With them come warring warlords, wicked kings, human sacrifice (now we’re talking), thought and philosophy. And something to look at at last: the first wall; beautiful, buried chariots; an army made of clay. Now I’m listening – it’s easier, when there’s something to see as well. Still, I’m looking forward to getting back to where we started. Bring on the 20th century, bring on the revolutions.
If Michael Wood’s China is weighty and a little sticky, then Death in Paradise (BBC2) is the polar opposite. Fluffy as a cumulus, it makes no impression on the scales at all, and requires zero thought from the viewer. DI Humphrey (Kris Marshall) – comedy Englishman abroad, bumbling and poorly dressed – has a new sidekick from when I last looked in on the Island of Saint Marie. Shame, I liked the last one, though to be honest DS Florence (Joséphine Jobert) seems like good news too. And there are more pretty women to keep officers JP and Dwayne in a froth here – four catwalk models, here for a beach fashion show … Oops, make that three, one has been sadly murdered. (Murder doesn’t come much more casual than it is in DiP).
Humphrey can forget his dating deficiencies for now, and snap into action. It couldn’t have been him because he was taking photos, or him because he was with her, or her because she was on the phone to her agent, or anyone else because of the swamp behind the catwalk. And then Humph suddenly notices something, and – eureka! – solves it, just like that. I think that’s how police work goes in the real world isn’t it … hey, don’t be a spoilsport, it’s not supposed to have anything to do with the real world, it’s just a bit of fun.
Quick, gather everyone together, for the denouement. Which this week is even more preposterous than it normally is. What?!
Date My Mum (Channel 4) is a kind of 21st-century take on arranged marriage. Two single mums go on dates with men picked by their children. It’s sweet, because these kids really care for their mums, and want to see them happy. But in the end neither date works out. Maybe, when it comes to love, you’re better off choosing for yourself?
