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Through all of this — and much more — Macdonald proved a complete TV natural: unfailingly good company and somehow managing to be both heartfelt and relaxed at the same time, whether she was deftly summarising the ideas of J.G. Ballard, reminding us that English rural life has never been as tranquil as townies like to think, or explaining how mosses are central to all life on earth. She also tossed in any number of memorable asides. Who knew that in Baltic mythology fungi were seen as the fingers of the god of the dead? Or that there was such a thing as Baltic mythology? Or that Charles Darwin’s daughter Henrietta systematically collected and burned stinkhorn mushrooms (accurate Latin name: Phallus impudicus) so as ‘to protect the morals of the maids’.
John Updike, possibly the greatest novelist ever to appear in The Simpsons, used to say that the purpose of life was ‘to pay attention’. By paying it so assiduously here, Macdonald inspired us to do the same — and even to look at the world with new eyes.
According to its creator John Logan, although Penny Dreadful: City of Angels (Wednesday) is set in 1938 Los Angeles, ‘it’s about 2020’. To be honest, I think we might have guessed that anyway. The first episode began with a portentous voice-over foretelling a time when all sorts of dreadful things would happen. ‘On that day,’ it went on, ‘a leader will arise and set all the kingdoms to war and all the races one against the other’ — a prophecy that couldn’t have made its point any clearer if a photo of Donald Trump had appeared on the screen.
From there, such firm rib-nudging never let up for long. When not bulldozing a Mexican neighbourhood to make room for a new highway, one city father found time to praise ‘a fellow who understands the judicious exercise of power’ by the name of Adolf Hitler. Meanwhile, a swastika-waving member of the German American Bund was urging his onlookers to put ‘America first’.
Despite its title, the series isn’t a sequel to Logan’s original Penny Dreadful, which mashed up more or less every Victorian gothic character from Dracula to Mr Hyde by way of Dorian Gray. Instead, it’s described — again somewhat portentously — as a ‘spiritual descendant’. In practice, this means that the supernatural is still at work, as an evil Mexican goddess seeks to capture the souls of all mankind (with particular reference to LA’s civic leaders and cops).
So far, she seems to be doing rather well — but at some cost to the programme. Much of the straightforward naturalistic stuff, especially a Mexican detective and his Jewish partner investigating a murder, is undeniably good. Nevertheless, you can’t help feeling it would be better still without its embarrassingly solemn and self-important overlay.
Because you read about 2020
Also by James Walton
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