“Where is Jessica Hyde?”
The above quote is sure to take on a newly poignant resonance for fans of startlingly-good cult TV now as UK broadcaster Channel 4 has seen fit to call time on one of its most challenging original dramatic productions in recent years; Dennis Kelly‘s trenchantly-funny conspiracy-thriller opus, Utopia. Taken purely on values of diminishing viewership, this shouldn’t have come as anything surprising, seeing as the second series debuted this summer to less than one million viewers and slowly-yet-surely dwindled to less than three-hundred-thousand thereafter. However, Utopia‘s presence in the current TV landscape was still something truly special enough that surely Channel 4 shouldn’t have let it go; as stylistically and thematically warped as Charlie Brooker‘s Black Mirror series but devilish enough in its convictions to set its feverish ramblings in the real world, its unique blend of twitchy paranoia, harrowing ultraviolence and hysterical comedy was lauded by all who saw it (re: unless you actually read The Daily Mail), and despite modest viewing figures had even managed to gather enough momentum to get HBO and David Fincher to commit to bringing a US adaptation to fruition. With its strident anti-authoritarianism, sly indoctrination of the media and challenging moral compass that continually wavered with every speech about selfishness over utilitarianism, it never offered its audience anything less than close-to-the bone wit and involving drama.
Utopia sets its disregard for typical espionage thriller tropes out as early as its opening scene via a siege on a comic book shop made by two heavies as disquietingly peculiar as you’re likely to have seen on TV. From there on, the first series was a foul-mouthed, violent romp, as a rag-tag group of comic book geeks in possession of an unpublished manuscript for a graphic novel that may contain details about a future genocide find themselves on the run from not just these menacing hitmen, but also by the authorities after being falsely implicated in all kinds of nasty business at the behest of an omniscient government-controlling syndicate, known only as The Network, bent on sterilizing the world. These guys are so deplorable they are not even above performing an impromptu primary school massacre (that’s only just kept offscreen) to get their work done. The second series broadened the show’s scope even further, not least in a sterling premiere that provided plenty of juicy context into the virus’ creation by granting its key progenitors a wealth of backstory, the resulting series thereby picking up where the first left off but with a far murkier ethical understanding of why and what the Network was doing what it was. Throughout all of this there were moments of inspired pitch-black comedy as well as gut-wrenching moments of tension, one perfect example of both being when one character tries to evade an assassin squad whilst being handcuffed to someone dying from a heart attack or a hostage antagonizing their kidnappers by smiling in their ransom photograph despite having a gun pointed at their head.
Technically, it was also a marvel that popped out at you in idiosyncratic style; The Simpsons creator Matt Groening has often said his making the titular characters yellow was a choice so that even a casual TV viewer can instantly discern when an episode was on whilst hopping through their channels and it’s quite clear Kelly and his team took similarly bold strategies to make sure Utopia looked and sounded like nothing else. Offering up moments of Magritte-inspired imagery swathed in saturated colours that erred so close to the toxically-saturated as to make you feel queasy, the digital colouring also made sure that every moment of bloodletting was contrasted to perturbed perfection. One particular standout masterstroke was having season two’s flashback opener seemingly being filmed via an aspect ratio suggesting an old home movie camera, thereby inheriting a gorgeous ’70s-style hue throughout. And special mention must also go to Christobal Tapia de Veer‘s marvelous score, which complemented the action onscreen perfectly in terms of its schizophrenic ability to navigate right-left-right-again turns with pieces of chopped up samples as dementedly-playful as they were disturbingly-tense.
For all of its acidic bent though, at heart Utopia was always a little too spiky and volatile to perhaps attain true crossover success; much like the school shooting did in series one, series two courted its own controversial snipes from right-minded mouth-pieces for incorporating the real-life assassination of Conservative politician Airey Neave as a key plot point in its narrative. It’s dissection of the media as a method of communicating how it is used to instill fear and paranoia into the public mind was razor-sharp also; away from clever bon-mots like coded messages being hidden in the ticker-tape of twenty-four hour news channels whilst it showed coverage of the inconsequential Youtube video (Roomba Cat!), it’d be a little uncomfortable watching it now and hearing what it has to say amidst all the Ebola outbreak coverage currently subsuming our news feeds. There’s also the overriding theme of child abuse that emerges and permeates throughout the second season specifically, a hard-sell for some even when its treated with the utmost seriousness as it is here, both as metaphor via how The Network seeks to allegedly save the world by partially destroying most of its populace, directly via specific character relations that I won’t go into here for the sake of remaining spoiler-free. Needless to say, as warped as Utopia is, it’s still engrossing and powerful enough to warrant some sort of retribution from fans just to indeed find out where Miss Hyde is now. I haven’t even gone into how committed performances from each of the cast members are, principal and recurring; not only is everyone written with enough of a sharp zest to make them instantly engaging, but everyone’s clearly having the time of their lives playing all of this nonsense to the hysterical hilt. Ultimately though, Utopia‘s continuation may be even bleaker than the future posited by its own twisted mythology; that shouldn’t stop anyone with the stomach for brilliant drama from taking a chance and rediscovering it for themselves though.
Great, now that that’s out of the way, back to beeswax. Here it is:
Dibder’s 2014: October Mix
01) “Never Catch Me” by Flying Lotus featuring Kendrick Lamar
02) “Metropolis” by Logic
03) “Can’t Do Without You” by Caribou
04) “Coasting” by Kele
05) “We Fall In Love” by Lamb
06) “Ratchet” by Objekt
07) “Secrets” by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross
08) “Dangerous Days” by Zola Jesus
09) “I’m Not The Bad Guy” by My Brightest Diamond
10) “Smokestackmagic” by Mark Lanegan Band
And until next time, Happy Halloween everybody! xxxo
dibdersbooth 