In The Long Run

Note: This review is from 2018

TV review by Steve Bennett

One thing you should be able to guarantee for any programme set in the 1980s is a cracking soundtrack. And so it is with In The Long Run, the new comedy based on Idris Elba’s childhood on a South London council estate.

Every scene, it seems, is kick-started with a blast from some two-tone banger, joyous reggae or ska-influenced Clash – doing a lot of the heavy lifting in creating a feelgood vibe.

These exciting musical times reflected a new infusion of Afro-Carribean passion into working-class British culture, a notion that has parallels with the essential premise here, of the ebullient Valentine (Jimmy Akingbola) arriving from Sierra Leone to live with his brother’s family, shaking things up the moment he does.

He’s a hard-drinking, charming womaniser of the type this estate has never before experienced. Fresh of the plane, he reveals that he’s a DJ. ‘What, like Pat Sharp?’ comes the uncomprehending response.

His charismatic presence is a beacon to the tweenage Kobna (Sammy Kamara) – the character loosely based on the young Elba – whose eyes are opened to an alternative existence far removed from the restraint and respectability practised by his dad Water (Elba) and mother, the very straight-laced Agnes (Madeline Appiah), who definitely rules the roost. Frictions between the responsible and the irresponsible underpin the first episode. But although relatively strict, there’s clearly a lot of love in this family.

Emotions are harder to read for Bagpipes (Bill Bailey), Walter’s best mate, colleague and neighbour – and the epitome of the emotionally stunted white British man, knowing more about DIY than his feelings. His relationship with his younger wife Kirsty (Kellie Shirley) – whose infidelity was made plain to all after she had a mixed-race child – is another fault line providing dramatic impetus, especially in the second episode, also aired tonight.

Such storylines provide grit to the comedy, which might otherwise be an affectionately nostalgic look back at the era of orange-patterned wallpapers, prawn cocktails at the Berni Inn, and the awesome novelty of the microwave oven. All tropes, incidentally, which are present and correct.

The riots of Brixton are shown on TV here, as a reminder of the volatility of those turbulent times and the fact real life wasn’t all pre-ironic kitsch – even if such flashpoints seem a world apart from the community spirit of this particular estate.

The tone here is warm, the characters likeable. The script isn’t rammed full of jokes, but the tone is amusing as these amiable personalities deal with credible trials and tribulations. Given it has those elements, credit goes to the makers for resisting the temptation to pitch In The Long Run as an hour-long comedy-drama, as so many shows are. For the discipline of the commercial half-hour means the scripts crack on, matching the infectious vitality of the soundtrack.