Dune: Prophecy (Sky Atlantic/Now)
I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here! (ITV1) | itv.com
Say Nothing (Disney+)
The Listeners (BBC One) | iPlayer
If there’s one thing the world doesn’t need right now it’s another addition to the oversaturated fantasy genre, but maybe Sky Atlantic’s new six-parter Dune: Prophecy offers something a little different?
That’s not to claim that I was bouncing on the sofa with anticipation. Developed by Diane Ademu-John and Alison Schapker, the show is a prequel to Denis Villeneuve’s 2021 film (a remake of David Lynch’s 1984 original), which I found rather dull: two-and-a half-hours of sand, CGI and boyband brooding from Timothée Chalamet’s Paul Atreides.
The new series is set 10,000 years before Atreides shows up on Arrakis, and as per with such ventures, the premise is laboriously set out at the beginning, as if we’ve all failed our fantasy studies GCSE and must now suffer on a sci-fi cramming course.
A prologue tells us how thinking machines have been vanquished, technology banned. From there, we meet a sisterhood of Truthsayers – women in billowing black robes who root out liars and whisper advice into powerful ears, like alt-reality spads. The sisters are trained and led by morally dubious Valya (Emily Watson), who works alongside her sister Tula (Olivia Williams), and together… Hey, hang on…
At what point was permission granted for two older female actors to lead a TV fantasy franchise? It feels like a minor feminist miracle. Valya and Tula are in control of baby breeding for better leaders (think a non-evil, female-friendly Gilead), but a bearded stranger, Desmond Hart (Travis Femmel), has shown up, able to burn people alive with mind power, and the weak emperor (a dazed-seeming Mark Strong) is in his thrall.
Elsewhere, there’s routine fantasy silliness: for instance (spoiler alert), it is breathlessly revealed that Hart acquired his powers by being ingested by a giant sandworm. Still, Dune: Prophecy feels a lot more thoughtful and inventive than most fantasy fare, and with women placed at the centre. Looking ahead, Valya and Tula can still be found quietly but grittily scheming and plotting, alone and together, like a sandier House of Cards. It’s worth a look.
Over to the Australian jungle for the opener of the new series of I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here! (ITV1), presented by Ant and Dec. This time, thankfully, with no (Hammer House of Horror tone) “divisive political figures”. No former health secretary Matt Hancock trying to nice-bloke away breaking his own lockdown rules. No Nigel Farage, populist man of the sheeple, gloating about his giant fee, hilariously unaware he’s tanked 2023’s launch viewing figures by 2 million.
Instead, it’s back to the classic IAC ragbag of celebs, including record £1.5m signing Coleen Rooney, wife of former England footballer Wayne (“It’ll be nice for Coleen to do a trial that doesn’t involve Rebekah Vardy,” quipped Dec), former Strictly Come Dancing pro Oti Mabuse and McFly’s Danny Jones. At this early stage everyone is being warm and supportive, which is wonderful and uplifting but needs to stop. There’s not nearly enough starvation-induced diva griping and sniping for my black-hearted tastes. Give them time.
Disney+ drama Say Nothing, created by Joshua Zetumer, is nine episodes long and still feels as if it needs more space for the huge task it sets itself. Based on the bestselling 2018 book by Patrick Radden Keefe, it spans decades of the Troubles in Northern Ireland, from the 1970s onwards.
Set mainly in Belfast, the story focuses on real-life IRA operatives the Price sisters – Dolours (portrayed over the years by Lola Petticrew, then Maxine Peake) and Marian (Hazel Doupe/Helen Behan) – and Brendan Hughes (Anthony Boyle/Tom Vaughan-Lawlor). It also features Gerry Adams (Josh Finan/Michael Colgan), who was Sinn Féin president from 1983 until 2018, though each episode ends with firm legal disclaimers stating Adams’s consistent denial of involvement with the IRA.
Elsewhere, Say Nothing deals with the “disappeared”, including the appalling case of widowed mother of 10 Jean McConville (Judith Roddy), abducted and killed by the IRA for allegedly being an informant to the British army, although it was never proven that she was.
In many ways this is an astonishing work, with striking performances all round, and the radicalisation of the Prices is skilfully conveyed. One harrowing episode covers their 1973 bombing of the Old Bailey in London, which injured and maimed more than 200 people, and the sisters’ subsequent imprisonment and hunger strike.
Ultimately, though, Say Nothing struggles to control myriad threads: eras are linked by Peake’s older Dolours, and, later, Vaughan-Lawlor’s Hughes giving interviews to Boston College, Massachusetts’ oral history Belfast Project. There’s also a highly problematic rock’n’roll-style excitement to early IRA manoeuvres, though this is addressed as the series progresses, and, for some characters, doubt and conscience seep in. What emerges is a disordered, skewed account, but a powerful one.
It’s hard to know where you are with new four-part BBC One drama The Listeners – and that’s both its biggest fault and its greatest selling point. Adapted from his own left-field novel by Canadian author and playwright Jordan Tannahill, it follows teacher Claire (a vivid performance from Rebecca Hall) as she struggles to cope with an omnipresent rumbling hum only she can hear – to the increasing alarm and exasperation of her husband and daughter (played by Prasanna Puwanarajah and Mia Tharia respectively).
Directed by Janicza Bravo (Zola), the story has a chilly, stubbornly conceptual feel as Claire keeps gaining and losing your sympathy. Surely a teacher would know it was inappropriate to meet alone with a teenage pupil (a credibly off-kilter Ollie West) who also hears the hum? They join a group of fellow listeners, led by a risibly creepy, blissed-out couple. As Claire’s life unravels, themes jostle: conspiracy theories; alternative facts; cults; condescension to women (Claire’s hum is initially branded a menopausal symptom); quasi-religious fervour and rapture, but also rising dread.
There are times when The Listeners feels akin to a sprawling, uber-woolly episode of Black Mirror. But there’s also the sense that you’re partaking against your will in a televised immersive art installation, and I like that. Here is a drama that aggravates and intrigues in equal measure.
Star ratings (out of five)
Dune: Prophecy ★★★★
I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here! ★★★
Say Nothing ★★★★
The Listeners ★★★
What else I’m watching
Landman
(Paramount Plus)
The new Taylor Sheridan (Yellowstone) drama set in the recent past in west Texas. Demi Moore, Jon Hamm and Billy Bob Thornton star in an ambitious oil business saga about billionaires, law enforcement and drug cartels.
Britain’s Nuclear Bomb Scandal: Our Story
(BBC Two)
A disturbing documentary about people still campaigning for justice after the devastating effects of the British government’s postwar nuclear test programme in Australia/South Pacific in the 1950s/60s.
Loaded: Lads, Mags and Mayhem
(BBC Two)
Full-on documentary marking the genesis of Loaded magazine and the ensuing 90s lads’ mags revolution. Interviewees include Irvine Welsh, Gail Porter and founding editor James Brown.
