Journey to America, on PBS

People forget, but no president was more supportive of immigration than Ronald Reagan—legal immigration, that is. Former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich and his wife Callista present portraits of notable American [legal] immigrants very much in the Reaganesque tradition in Journey to America with Newt and Callista Gingrich, which airs this Tuesday night on PBS.

It might seem like a blindingly obvious point, but Prof. Susan Hanssen helpfully points out legal immigration is good, because it allows those who follow the law coming here can fully benefit from the rule of law as a recognized member of society. Conversely, illegal immigration is bad for the same reason. Indeed, all of the Gingrichs’ subjects came to America legally, duly taking citizenship over time.

This is quite a starry lineup, including Golden Age movie star Hedy Lamarr, whose contributions as an inventor and scientist are also cogently explained. In fact, the Gingrichs largely cover the same territory as Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story, but with greater economy. As you would expect from the Catholic Gingrichs, their coverage of Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini, the first American citizen beautified into Sainthood, is also quite strong. It also reminds potential visitors the Cabrini Shrine in upper Manhattan is lovely often overlooked attraction.

Perhaps the most controversial segment focuses on the late Henry Kissinger, reminding viewers the future Secretary of State came to America with his Jewish family, as penniless refugees from National Socialist Germany. It makes you wonder why the hard left likes to smear Kissinger (a diplomat), who happens to be Jewish, as a “war criminal,” instead of Robert McNamara, Dean Rusk, or William Rogers, but not really.

Ghost Story for Christmas: Lot No. 249, on PBS

Arthur Conan Doyle would probably hate this adaptation of his mummy short story, for the same reason many of his fans will enjoy it. Departing from the original text, it creates a role that is clearly implied to be you-know-who. Of course, he could justifiably complain the annual BBC series, A Ghost Story for Christmas had no business adapting his creepy yarn, because it is about a mummy, not a ghost. Still, maybe screenwriter-director Mark Gatiss might argue a mummy is an undead spirit that loiters malevolently, much like a ghost. Regardless, there is plenty of gothic tweediness in Lot No. 249, which airs tomorrow on Buffalo Public Television (airing a Ghost Story for Christmas, more-or-less for Christmas, as it was originally intended).

Abercrombie Smith is a very smart but not quite genius Oxford medical student, who treats Edward Bellingham, the eccentric Egyptology scholar in the digs next-door for exhaustion, nervous collapse, or really just some kind bizarre trance-like state. Whatever you call it, viewers can tell he has been dabbling in black arts.

Sure enough, soon thereafter, Bellingham’s campus rival is throttled by a mysterious hulking figure. For an Oxford student, Smith puts two and two together relatively quickly, deducing Bellingham has found a way to reawaken and control the mummy he bought at auction—that would be lot number 249. However, before confronting Bellingham, he wishes to “consult” his unnamed friend, a detective hoping to soon move to Bakers Street, who is decidedly not inclined to give credence to the supernatural.

Indeed, the Holmesian references are quite amusing. Gatiss also amps up the gay subtext, which almost feels unnecessary for a story set in the rarified world of elite British public (meaning private) school alumni. Frankly, Mummy makeup technology really hasn’t needed to advance much since Boris Karloff bandaged-up in 1932, so this one looks just as well as most of the ones that came before.

Leonardo da Vinci, on PBS

He was like the Orson Welles of the Renaissance. Everyone knew he was brilliant, but he still had trouble finishing projects. Of course, he left behind enough to judge his genius—like the Mona Lisa. He led an eventful life, which is fortunate since he has already been the protagonist of fictional series from Starz and CW. Now the true Renaissance man becomes Ken Burns’ first non-American subject when the two-part Leonardo da Vinci (co-directed by Sasha Burns and David McMahon) premieres this Monday and Tuesday on PBS.

Yes, Leonardo was illegitimate, but the battery of historians and talking heads do a nice job explaining why that really wasn’t such a big deal at the time. Frankly, the same was true for his presumed sexuality in pre-Savonarola Florence. There is still a good deal of speculation regarding Leonardo’s life, particularly his early years, but the law firm-sounding trio of Burns, Burns, and McMahon do a nice job of covering all the periods of his life, from Vinci to Florence and then onto Milan and eventually France.

Logically, they focus and good deal on his work, particularly his sketches, codices, and scientific journals. Frankly, they make a convincing case Leonardo really was hundreds of years ahead of his time, especially with regards to his deductions regarding the structure and mechanics of the human heart.

Of course, it is also frustrating to hear about all the commissions he left incomplete or had canceled at the last minute. Arguably, they had to give “Vetruvian Man” roughly equal time as the Mona Lisa and the Last Supper, because that is what they had to work with.

Independent Lens: Make Peace or Die

In the mid to late 2000s, there were scores of documentaries about PTSD. Today, when they are not so politically useful to the anti-war cause, there have almost completely disappeared. Anthony Marquez noticed a similar phenomenon with Gold Star families. They received an initial outpouring of support, but after a year or so, people largely forgot them. That is why Marquez decided to personally check-in with the families of all 17 fellow Marines of his unit who died in Sangin, Afghanistan. Filmmaker Manny Marquez follows his brother’s cathartic journey in Make Peace or Die: Honor the Fallen, which airs this Monday on PBS, as part of the current season of Independent Lens.

Sangin will be remembered as one of the deadliest destinations ever for the Marine Corps. Not surprisingly, his experiences there haunted Marquez years after the fact. As part of his self-proscribed therapy, he hand-crafted (or chainsaw-crafted) memorial statues for each Gold Star family, which he hand-delivered. Realizing how quickly the community support evaporates for Gold Star families, Marquez resolved to revisit the same families one year later (this time with his brother following him).

Most were incredibly welcoming, even though his visits inevitably rekindled the pain of their loss. He hardly knew some of their sons, but he could still relate through their shared experiences. At times, he even questions his mission, but eventually doubles down, inviting the families to a special commemoration ceremony at Camp Pendleton. Along the way, he assembles a special dress uniform, consisting of garments and medals contributed by the seventeen families.

There are several deeply emotional moments in Make Peace or Die (the title refers to Corps 1^st Battalion, 5^th Marines’ motto—as in make peace with us, or else). However, the sequence that will absolutely destroy viewers documents the final hours of Marquez’s military service dog, who even had a Marine honor guard for the fateful last trip to the vet’s office. No matter how tough you think you are, you are going to be choked up.

This is a powerful film that should have had much more attention on the festival circuit. Obviously, Marquez approached his subjects with the best of intentions. After all, his parents appear in the documentary, as well as his brother. Of course, nobody wants to question the motives of some the docs that came out so regularly during the George W. Bush administration, but isn’t it so strange how they just aren’t being produced anymore (with the exception of this film)?

The Mezzotint, on PBS

The mezzotint print-making process might seem old-fashioned, but one of its leading practitioners was M.C. Esher, whom M.R. James might have appreciated, at least for his use of initials. Typically, mezzotints never change, but not the one in this M.R. James short story. Understandably, that rather bedevils its new custodian in Mark Gatiss’s The Mezzotint (part of the A Ghost Story for Christmas annual series in the UK), which airs on participating PBS stations.

Edward Williams definitely stays true to his school. He curates the traditional Ox-bridge-ish university’s decorative arts museum and spends most of personal time at the U club with his old college mates. Each day is largely the same, but that is how he likes it, until a mysterious mezzotint arrives for his appraisal.

Williams had not thought much of it, but his golfing friend Binks sees more in it. In fact, he describes a rather different picture, with a moon rising above the country house and a shadowy figure just starting to enter the frame. Weirdly, those elements had not been in the picture before, because, as Williams soon deduces, it changes slightly every time he looks at it. That sounds crazy, but Williams’s old school chums Garwood and Nisbet confirm it, much to their own surprise. It confuses all the three alumni, but Williams also feels an uneasy suspicion that the dark figure will do something horrible when he finally enters the house.

Of course, the mezzotint surely must represent events that occurred when it was printed in the 1800s, right? Yet, to Williams, it feels like a tragedy slowly unfolding before his eyes, especially when he learns he might have a personal connection to its town of origin. That last bit is all Gatiss, but it is a nice macabre little wrinkle. Regardless, it is strange no previous anthology series has taken a shot adapting it, especially considering it requires no special effects—just a quality print-maker.

In fact, this is one of Gatiss’s best “Ghost Stories for Christmas,” or just plain “Ghost Stories,” if you are watching on PBS. The mezzotint is a clever gimmick and Gatiss maximizes its full Twilight Zone-ish potential.

The Dead Room, on PBS

Aubrey Judd is so old school, he largely built his reputation on radio. He still hosts the same long-standing ghost story program, but, much to his frustration, annoying hipsters now write most of the tales he reads. However, the script gets flipped in more ways than one in Mark Gatiss’s The Dead Room, which airs on participating PBS stations over the coming month.

Unlike The Tractate Middoth, this week’s Ghost Story (formerly “for Christmas”) is not based on a M.R. James classic. Here we have a Gatiss original, but perhaps he should have stuck with the master.

Regardless, hammy Judd is a perfect fit for the great Simon Callow. Frankly, Judd finds tonight’s story a bit tacky, because of the violence, but his new producer, Tara, believes it is the kind of contemporary work they need to spruce the show up. Ironically, they must record this week’s production in the old, shabby studio the show used to be produced in years ago.

Initially, Judd finds it rather nostalgic to return to his old “haunt.” At least that is what he tries to project for the benefit of Tara and Joan, their ancient, taciturn foley artist. Yet, he soon hears strange noises nobody else notices. Perhaps most ominously, the pages of his script in explicably re-arrange themselves into a completely different story. It rather unnerves him, but somehow he fails to recognize the significance of it all.

In terms of story, Dead Room is passable, but it is no M.R. James yarn. Clearly, Gatiss tries to bring “updated” contemporary social sensibilities to the venerable Ghost Story for Christmas tradition, but it possibly backfires. After all, Judd’s identity is central to his character and his actions, but they consequently lead to the sins he must account for.

Nevertheless, it is a pleasure to listen to Callow unleash his inner Vincent Price as he waxes poetic over great ghost stories and other assorted pleasures of life. Callow has the voice for it, so he ought to narrate more spooky tales for real.

Mambo Legends: The Music Never Ends, on PBS

Do not call them a “ghost band.” For years, they played with Tito Puente and other great Latin bandleaders, so they are not about to stop now. They still sound great and keep gigging with a regularity younger musicians would envy. The reminiscences are almost as enjoyable as the music in Mari Keiko Gonzalez’s Mambo Legends: The Music Never Ends, which airs tomorrow on PBS, as part of the current season of Voces.

Led by bandleader John “Dandy” Rodriguez, under the “music direction” of Jose Madera, the Mambo Legends Orchestra is sort of like a Puente tribute band, because his music dominates their set lists. They all played El Rey, but most also had stints in the Machito and Tito Rodriguez bands, the other two of the big three Latin bands.

They are all accomplished and have plenty of stories to tell, like baritone saxophonist Carmen Laboy, who was the first women to perform on-stage with Puente’s band. We also hear from saxophonist Mitch Frohman, who happened to be a Jewish kid from the Bronx, who discovered Latin jazz and dance music when he sat in with Joe Cuba, while gigging with another band in the Catskills.

It turns out, you probably heard a lot of Frohman’s work. Years ago, he recorded multiple improvisations for episodes of Sex and the City. However, he has yet to receive full and fair compensation. And just like that, another musician gets a raw deal.

Ghost Stories: The Tractate Middoth, on PBS

For many [stupid] people, books are sort of like ghosts. They relics from the past, bearing witness to the folly we might have prevented, had we only read more of them. However, a part-time librarian might have a legitimately haunted book on his shelves, which is bizarrely in-demand throughout Mark Gatiss’s The Tractate Middoth, based on the classic M.R. James story, which airs on participating PBS stations over the coming month.

Although originally produced by the BBC as part of their annual Ghost Story for Christmas, PBS apparently believed the productions they licensed better fit Halloween season. Neither is wrong per se, because James is timeless—and hopefully so are books.

Intellectually gifted but financially challenged William Garrett rather enjoys working part-time in the library, while pursuing his advanced studies, even though “Sniffer” Hodgson, the supervising librarian, is a pompous blowhard. At least he did, until John Eldred requests the Tractate Middoth, an ancient Hebrew text.

The first time Garrett tries to pull it, he believes a mysterious shrouded figure coincidentally retrieved it before him. The next time Eldred calls to request it, Garrett passes out on the way to its shelf, overcome by the supernatural pollen suddenly swirling about. Clearly, that volume holds sinister secrets, involving its former owner, the nasty Dr. Rant, who maybe orchestrated all this weirdness while expiring on his deathbed, as we partially saw during the prologue.

Tractate Middoth is a particularly British ghost story. Indeed, it is easy to imagine how James’s tale might have inspired some of the early library business in A Discovery of Witches. If the story sounds familiar, maybe it is because Leslie Nielsen also portrayed the intrepid librarian on the early-1950s Lights Out anthology show.

COBRA: Rebellion, on PBS

TV Prime Minister Robert Sutherland outlasted Boris Johnson Liz Truss, and Rishi Sunak. He might be the most reassuring PM since Jim Hacker on Yes, Prime Minister. However, Sutherland could use a Sir Humphrey, because many of his cabinet members follow their own agendas, often against the interests of his administration. It gets so bad, his flamboyantly arrogant Conservative Party rival Archie Glover-Morgan is more friend than foe this time around—or at least it’s a close call. That will be a problem when the next crisis strikes in the 6-part COBRA: Rebellion (a.k.a. season three), which premieres tonight on PBS.

To embarrass her father, Sutherland’s daughter Ellie joined an extremist environmental group occupying tunnels under a contested construction site. However, she needs daddy to save her when a freak sink-hole collapse traps her underground. The disaster site turns into a crime scene when remnants of an explosive device are discovered. Awkwardly, the activist trapped with her knows an awful lot about it. Logically, suspicion also falls on Ellie, requiring her father to maintain impartial treatment towards her.

That does not sit so well with his wife Rachel, with whom his marriage was already strained. Fortunately, he can finally count on the wise counsel of his chief of staff, Anna Marshall. Like Lloyd Bridges in Airplane!, she picked the wrong day to return from sick leave, after waking from her second season coma. Indeed, she wants to be in the cabinet briefings (the so-called COBRAs) to support Sutherland—and anywhere else he might need her . . . support.

Somehow, a fictional Middle East kingdom that is absolutely not supposed to represent Saudi Arabia is also mixed up in the expanding crisis. Apparently, they kidnapped the dissident Princess Yadira, who was a women’s rights activist back home and a legal resident of the United Kingdom. Sutherland is quite put out that they would conduct such an operation on British soil, but the ruthlessly ambitious Defense Minister, Victoria Dalton is determined to preserve British defense contractors’ lucrative deals with the oil-rich kingdom.

Uncharacteristically, Glover-Morgan, who ascended to the deputy PM position in season two, advises caution to both. While he wants to preserve the defense contracts, he also wants no part of the regime’s reported human rights abuses. In fact, the subtle evolution of Glover-Morgan, from jerky to rather waggish, is one of the best developments in Rebellion.

David Haig practically chortles with delight firing off zingers and scheming behind-the-scenes. He is like Frank Underwood or Francis Urquhart in either version of House of Cards, except Glover-Morgan is more human, more principled, and arguably a true patriot, despite his devious, roguishness. Honestly, if he were the lead of the next season, it would be jolly good fun.

In comparison, Robert Carlyle is still a bit bland as Sutherland, but he projects a sense of sound judgement and temperament that frankly a lot of Americans are currently yearning for. Lisa Palfrey is still appropriately shifty and morally ambiguous as Intelligence Chair Eleanor James. Edward Bennett is also entertainingly snide and pompous as Glover-Morgan’s former ally, press secretary Peter Mott, who has turned against the Deputy PM. However, Marsha Thomason is dull as dish water playing former Sutherland advisor and current Labour shadow minister, Francine Bridge, whose duties apparently solely consist of walking about looking heroically concerned. Similarly, a lot of viewers would prefer to leave Holly Cattle’s character, nauseatingly petulant Ellie Sutherland buried in the collapsed tunnel.

Nature: Saving the Animals of Ukraine, on PBS

Do you like dolphins? If so, you should despise Putin. Since the launch of his illegal invasion, the Ukrainian wildlife reserve on the Black Sea has found the corpses of at least 5,000 dolphins, but they estimate thousands more have died. Clearly, animals have suffered from Russia’s military aggression, just like the Ukrainian people. Yet, despite the chaos and danger, ordinary Ukrainians have risked their lives to rescue animals both wild and domestic. Viewers need to watch their brave efforts, which Anton Ptushkin documents in “Saving the Animals of Ukraine,” premiering this Wednesday on PBS, as part of the current season of Nature.

It sure is funny how everyone who was so concerned about the animals in the Baghdad Zoo have had so little to say about the animals of Ukraine. Regardless, the entire world saw images of desperate Ukrainian refugees carrying their beloved pet cats and dogs. As a result, at least one NGO talking head had to dramatically rethink they way he thought about refugees. Inevitably, many pets were still left behind, often not intentionally, but rather due to unexpected Russian bombardments. Zoopatrol was organized to save those animals, either by jail-breaking them outright, or noninvasively feeding them through front-door peep-holes (this mostly works for cats).

Perhaps their most famous rescue is Shafa, who was found by drones trapped on the exposed ledge of a completely bombed-out seventh-floor apartment, where she had been perched for sixty days, with minimal food or water. Despite her advanced age, they successfully nursed Shafa back to health. Since then, she has become an online sensation, symbolizing Ukrainian resilience in her own grumpy cat way.

Likewise, Patron the Jack Russell terrier has also become an international influencer, thanks to his work sniffing out landmines. Patron’s small size gives him an advantage over other ordinance-detecting dogs, because he is too light to set-off mines calibrated for human weight. That little guy is a charmer.

Unfortunately, many of the stories Ptushkin documents are profoundly sad, like the two animal shelters that took very different approaches when evacuating their human staffs. Tragically, both shelters were near Hostomel Airport, which Putin’s thugs and mercenaries bombed into rubble, greatly distressing the animals in the process. Clearly, several on-camera experts suggest one shelter handled the challenge in a much more humane manner, but the real villain is Putin, who put both shelters directly in harm’s way.

Next at the Kennedy Center: Joshua Redman, on PBS

Even if you did not follow jazz in the 1990s, you might recognize, or at least have heard Joshua Redman from his musical appearances in Robert Altman’s Kansas City and Louis Malle’s Vanya on 42^nd Street, two great films with famous American places in their titles. That was also the theme of Redman’s latest album, Where Are We. Each track refers to a specific city or state, often combining several geographically related songs into medleys. Redman performs selections from the album live-in-concert during the latest episode of Next at the Kennedy Center, which premieres tomorrow on PBS.

Somewhat counter-intuitively, the broadcast starts with its strongest performance, an appropriately bluesy rendition of Count Basie and Jimmy Rushing’s “Chicago Blues.” Redman’s quintet (the leader on tenor, Aaron Parks on piano, Brian Blade on drums, Joe Sanders on bass, and vocalist Gabrielle Cavassa) definitely takes down the decibel level compared to the roaring Basie Band, but Parks’ rhythmic comping still gives it a snappy groove.

Inspired by the George Floyd killing, “After Minneapolis (Face Towards Mo[u]rning)” has a Spartan, plaintive vibe that somewhat recalls some of the recordings by Redman’s father, Dewey Redman, a giant of the free jazz movement—and also one of its most accessible artists. There are some beautiful moments, but, somewhat ironically, the “message” sometimes literally gets lost in Cavassa’s breathy delivery, which almost sounds like wordless vocalizations.

“Streets of Philadelphia” and “Hotel California” both have similar tempos, emotional vibes, and themes of alienation. However, they great “enticements” for non-jazz listeners, reinterpreting Springsteen and the Eagles, but in ways their fans can recognize and relate to.

Probably, the other highlight of the one-hour program is the concluding medley, which combines “Stars Fell on Alabama” with Coltrane’s “Alabama,” which he composed following the Alabama church bombing that murdered four little girls. It is considered his only “protest song.” Coltrane’s “Alabama” is complex and challenging, but there is also a lot of “church” in there, which Redman gets at nicely. (Reportedly, Coltrane based it on the cadence of Martin Luther King’s eulogy).

The Incomparable Mr. Buckley, on PBS

When I was a kid, all the real intellectuals were conservatives. They were scholars like Allan Bloom, economists like Milton Friedman, theologians like Richard John Neuhaus, jazz critics like Ralph de Toledano, and first and foremost, William F. Buckley Jr., who in addition to being a commentator, was also a concert harpsichordist and spy novelist. In contrast, the left was a you-grease-my-palm-I-grease-yours alliance of unions and special interests seeking handouts and payoffs. They have not changed much, but the right has—and not for the better. Arguably, Buckley was the movement’s indispensable man. Director-producer Barak Goodman chronicles Buckley’s life and career as the chief strategist and spokesman of American conservatism in The Incomparable Mr. Buckley, which airs Friday as part of the current season on American Masters.

Even as an undergraduate, Buckley a troublemaking intellectual. He entered Yale as part of the first class to overwhelmingly consist of fellow returning WWII veterans and he left with the material for his first bestseller, God and Man at Yale. Non-left-wingers were a fractured lot, divided into religious traditionalist, libertarian capitalists, and hawkish Cold Warriors, but Buckley united them into a reasonably cohesive coalition through their opposition to Soviet expansionism and oppression.

Buckley played a critical role as Conservatism’s gatekeeper and arbiter of legitimacy. He famously excommunicated the conspiracy theory-mongering John Birch Society, while trying not to alienate their more casual followers. Goodman skips over Buckley (and his National Review colleague Whittaker Chambers) similarly dismissing Ayn Rand and her Objectivists, probably because they were never as consequential on the national political stage. Over the last ten years, we desperately needed another William F. Buckley, but there was only one.

Goodman and the disembodied voices of his commentators give the National Review editor his due credit for building the movement and guiding it to a spectacular victory when Buckley’s friend ally, Gov. Ronald Reagan, won the presidency and ultimately the Cold War. Yet, it is not hagiography. Incomparable takes a tough look at some of the positions Buckley staked out during the Civil Rights Era, but it provides a much fuller perspective than did Best of Enemies, Morgan Neville’s Buckley vs. Vidal doc.

Gospel, on PBS

It became the music of the Church, but it developed out of elements that came from the old devil blues and the sinful nightclub music that was jazz. Eventually, gospel influenced jazz in return, with the rise of Soul Jazz and spawned Soul music through its fusion with R&B. Gospel music became a revered institution, yet it continues to evolve, in ways writer, host, and executive producer Henry Louis Gates chronicles in the four-part Gospel, which airs Monday and Tuesday on PBS.

Technically, it did not all start with former (or reformed) blues musician Thomas A. Dorsey, because gospel evolved out of traditional spirituals, but he was its W.C. Handy. Dorsey wrote and promoted many of gospel’s original classics. Rev. J.M. Gates, who was a bestselling recording artist in his own right, for his sermons, championed Dorsey within his considerable Church network. His close collaborator, Sally Martin also played a critical behind-the-scenes business role. In fact, Dorsey’s music was his business. Unlike so many jazz and blues artists, Dorsey was incredibly shrewd when it came to copyrights and publishing.

Logically, Mahalia Jackson is the heroic touchstone figure in Gospel, in much the same way Louis Armstrong was in Ken Burns’ Jazz. If anything, fans might argue she deserves even more screen time, considering her pivotal role supporting the Civil Rights movement. Fiftysome years after her death, she continues to be the greatest crossover success in gospel history.

Given their focus on Dorsey and Jackson, the first two episodes of Gospel are clearly the best. It also covers Sister Rosetta Tharpe, who probably also deserves more screen attention (since she inspired Elvis Presley), but at least Gayle Wald, the author of her excellent biography, Shout, Sister, Shout appears as an on-camera expert. The second episode also introduces Aretha Franklin (who needs no introduction), but Gospel presents her father, the Rev. C.L. Franklin in a radically different light than did Genius: Aretha.

The third episode is still pretty solid, covering the explosion of popularity for Gospel on the international festival circuit, Franklin’s return to gospel with the Amazing Grace concert and live recording, and the rise of Andrae Crouch.

Funny Woman, on PBS

Barbara Parker is from Blackpool, not Liverpool, but to snobby Londoners in the early 1960s, they might as well be the same place. She is not stupid, but she is a little naïve, but again, the so-called “smart set” acts like they are the same thing. However, she might just teach them a thing or two in the six-part Funny Woman, adapted by Morwenna Banks from Nick Hornby’s novel, which premieres tonight on PBS.

First of all, set your understandable fears to rest. There is absolutely no Barbra Streisand to be found anywhere in this series. However, there is a good deal of vintage Pet Clark pop. The 1960s are just beginning to swing, but not for anyone in Blackpool, so Parker makes the big move to London. Initially, she lands a job in a swanky department store (one of many similarities with Miss Maisel), where she meets her long-suffering roommate Marj Harrison.

Unfortunately, the most likely way to social climb for most of her fellow shopworkers is as the kept sidepiece of a rich customer. That is not for the independent-minded Parker, so she quits. She was also fired, but whatever. Just when things look bad, she signs with theatrical agent Brian Debenham, who is a bit creepy, but not in a sexual way. Redubbed, “Sophie Straw,” she still struggles for gigs, until she talks her way into an audition for a new sitcom produced by the progressive Dennis Mahindra.

Obviously, Mahindra is her Mr. Right, but he is inconveniently married to an unfaithful TVC network colleague. Clearly, her cad of a co-star, Clive Richardson is Mr. Wrong but he is confident enough to make his move. Ted Sargent, TVC’s head of “light entertainment” does not much care for her modern sensibility or her Blackpool accent, but viewers seem to love her.

Funny Woman is a chipper period rom-com that clearly wears its inclusive spirit on its sleeve. However, the fab fashions and soundtrack keep the vibe quite buoyant. Gemma Arterton’s upbeat performance also helps power the show along at a healthy gallop. Her scenes on the sitcom set are somewhat reminiscent of shows like That Girl, in nostalgic kind of way.

Arterton also has great chemistry with Arsher Ali’s Mahindra. Tom Bateman doubles and triples down on pompous arrogance as Richardson, but Banks and series director Oliver Parker make it convincing from the dramatic context that Parker/Straw’s relationship with him is mostly due to her getting caught up in the momentum of her sudden fame.

Roald & Beatrix: The Tail of the Curious Mouse, on PBS

Roald Dahl would be appalled by the prospect of sensitivity readers censoring his work. He always believed his young readers were smart enough and sufficiently snarky to appreciate his humor. It turns out Beatrix Potter would agree. She happens to meet the young Dahl just when she is getting pushback from the 1920’s equivalent of a sensitivity reader in David Kerr’s Roald & Beatrix: The Tail of the Curious Mouse, which airs on select PBS stations throughout December (starting today).

It is historically accurate that young Dahl’s father passed away a little more than a year after the death of his older sister. Other circumstances of the comfortable Dahl household were fictionalized for the sake of holiday film conventions. However, it is also true young Dahl successfully set out to meet his literary idol, Beatrix Potter, the author of Peter Rabbit. According to Abigail Wilson’s amiable screenplay, Sofie Dahl allowed her grieving son to make the journey, providing only modest parental oversight, hoping it would yield therapeutic benefits.

Despite her happy marriage to William Heelis, Potter has grown eccentric and curmudgeonly. As Christmas approaches, she prefers to putter in her garden, rather than writing her next guaranteed bestseller. To spur her along, Potter’s publisher has dispatched the prim Ms. Anne Landy, who has a bone to pick with Potter regarding some of her more macabre rhymes. In fact, if Landy has her way, Potter will revise them, making them far less colorful. If “trigger warnings” were a thing in the 1920’s, Landy would have been an ardent proponent.

In between the live action storylines, Kerr intersperses stop-motion animated segments, following a little boy mouse, whose life clearly parallels young Dahl. The animation (directed by Thomas Harnett O’Meara) is stylishly nostalgic, evoking fond memories of the finer vintage Christmas specials, in the best way.

In fact, Kerr and Wilson consistently find the right tone for Roald & Beatrix. Of course, it is sentimental, but never excessively so. It always feels just right for holiday seasonal viewing. Yet, the bit with Ms. Landy has surprising bite and it could not be more relevant.

Annika: The 1984 Episode

The very idea of re-writing Orwell’s 1984 is Orwellian, but that is the current woke state of publishing. The plan is to tell the story from Julia’s perspective, to reflect contemporary feminist theory. If they stay true to Orwell, it should be almost exactly like Winston Smith’s story, except Julia has the added irony of belonging to the Party’s “Junior Anti-Sex League,” which strived to make their dystopian society celibate and genderless (thereby rendering the new “angle” moot). Apparently, DI Annika Strandhed understands 1984 better than Orwell’s heirs, but she does not always emphasize the most important parts in the latest episode of Annika, premiering tomorrow night on PBS.

As a detective with the Scottish Marine Homicide Unit, Strandhed is summoned to remote Jura Island in the Hebrideans, where George Orwell wrote 1984. Unfortunately, she is not thrilled to be ferried in aboard a chopper. Her team says she is afraid of heights, but she really has a fear of falling from a great height, which is only rational. Regardless, an unknown male was found floating in the river encased in a solid block of ice, so he is either dead or the Thing from Another World.

Of course, he was murdered and the jokey tattoo on his butt will make the identification easier. If he was killed on tiny Jura it will greatly reduce the potential suspects. It is one of the least populated islands in the Hebrideans, especially if you factor out the shrinks attending a convention, awkwardly including Jake Strathern, Strandhed’s daughter’s former analyst, who is now using them as a case study.

Strandhed’s initial thoughts on 1984 focus on the ways the Ministry of Love forces dissident prisoners to face their greatest fears. For most readers, the corrupting power of propaganda and newspeak are more significant. However, her thoughts eventually shift to the omnipresent surveillance. Ironically, surveillance footage provides a big break in the case, so quiet little Jura has its share of Big Brother as well.

Annika: The Jekyll & Hyde Episode

Ironically, DI Annika Strandhed has an easier time talking to viewers than her teen daughter Morgan or her DS, Michael McAndrews, with whom she shares some awkward personal history. Breaking the fourth wall is her thing. She often dishes to viewers regarding each episode’s case and her own personal issues. Strandhed (you can see why they simply called the series “Annika”) also has healthy interest in literature, which she demonstrates with her musings on Robert Louis Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It is not exactly a Halloween episode, but it is the closest PBS has to offer when the latest episode (S2E3) of Annika premieres Sunday.

Fabian Hyde, a green-sustainable energy tycoon has been murdered and it is clear the locals did not agree with his environmental do-gooder PR image. That starts Annika’s reflections on Stevenson and his fascination with duality—the idea that someone can be two very distinct personas simultaneously. She fears McAndrews might also see her as a Jekyll and Hyde, after revealing a very personal secret during the previous episode.

To really drive the point home, Strandhed gets deep-faked by a Scottish defund-the-police-style activist, making her sound like a crass opportunist. It is certainly a topical subplot and Strandhed’s Stevenson monologues add some welcomed color (he was Scottish after all). However, the mystery itself is overly simplistic and obvious even by 1970s Quinn Martin standards (which has been a longstanding critical knock on the series).

A House Made of Splinters, on POV

It is not like these kids had it easy to begin with. In many cases, their alcoholic parents had yet to inquire regarding their status, even after Ukrainian social services revoked their parental rights. Then their welcoming halfway home in Eastern Ukraine was forced to evacuate when Putin launched his illegal invasion. When the troops crossed the border, filmmaker Simon Lereng Wilmont had already finished shooting his Academy Award-nominated documentary A House Made of Splinters, which airs Monday on PBS stations, as part of the current season of POV.

Unlike Eastern Front and 20 Days in Mariupol, House Made of Splinters is not a war film, but the Russian dirty war in Donbass was indeed stretching Ukraine’s already strained resources for social services. Frankly, the three kids Wilmont focuses on are lucky to be there. Longtime educator/case workers Margaryta Burlutska and Olga Tronova provided a sheltering environment for the children, who were suddenly dealing with abandonment issues on top of everything else.

The Lysychansk Center was sort of a way station. Eventually, their residents either leave for a state-run orphanage or foster parents recruited by Burlutska and Tronova. Generally, fostering is the preferable option, but it essentially means the foster children have given up hope for a further life with their dysfunctional birth parents.

The three focal children all must come to terms with that reality, which is definitely some very real-life drama. It is also very depressing. However, thanks to Burlutska and Tronova, some of the kids have relatively happy endings—at least until the Russians invade.

Frontline: Inside the Iranian Uprising

How many times must the citizens of Iran take to the streets to protest their oppressive clerical regime, before the governments of the liberal West finally do something tangible to support them? Sadly, we are still asking. Who in the Biden administration could object to the most recent Iranian protest slogan: “women, life, freedom?” It is indeed Iranian women who were at the forefront of the latest round of protests and it has been Iranian women who have been dying as a result. Drawing on a wealth of protest footage posted (at least temporarily) to social media and authenticated by third parties, Nightline documents the demonstrations and the regime’s brutal response in director Majed Neisi’s “Inside the Iranian Uprising,” which premieres on digital this Thursday.

It all started with the murder Mahsa (Jina) Amini, a Kurdish Iranian woman, who died in a Tehran hospital, after having been arrested by the Iranian Morality Police. Her story went viral throughout Iran and around the world, after reporters (one of whom, Niloofar Hamedi, has since been arrested) published photos of Amini in a coma and her parents grieving in the hospital.

Many women were so outraged, they took to the streets, burning their hijabs in public protests, even though that very definitely made them targets for the same savagery that killed Amini. One of those was Nika Shakarami, a 16-year-old YouTube influencer, who mysteriously disappeared after burning her hijab in a protest, until the government finally produced her body nine days later, claiming she was the victim of a highly convenient suicide.

Yet, some of the most horrific accounts of torture in this Frontline report come from men, like the medical student who bravely offers an on-camera description of how he was sodomized with a police baton. Neisi and the Frontline producers mask the identity of another torture victim, using a British voice actor to overdub his shocking account of how the so-called Morality Police raped him and another man while they were in custody.

Tom Jones, on PBS

His name should ring a bell and not for singing the theme song to Thunderball. Unfortunately, a lot of English majors can graduate without reading Fielding these days and the 1963 adaptation has steadily lost its critical cachet since winning the Best Picture Oscar. Frankly, the story of the roguish foundling will probably be new to a lot of viewers, but they might not necessarily be watching PBS’s Masterpiece. However, older fans of costume dramas will be interested to see how Gwyneth Hughes’ four-part adaption departs from the novel and Albert Finney film when Tom Jones premieres tomorrow on PBS.

Squire Allworthy was a decent widower, who raised Tom Jones as his own, when he discovered the foundling mysteriously left in his chambers. Frankly, he might be a little too upright, but Jones always appreciated his kindness. In contrast, Jones’ legitimate cousin, William Blifil, and the heir to the estate always hated him, with visceral intensity. That is partly is so determined to be matched with Sophia Western, with whom Jones is clearly smitten. It is quite mutual, but Squire Western is not about to marry her off to a man of Jones’ dubious lineage.

In this adaptation, Miss Sophie is the Squire’s granddaughter. Her father recently passed away on the family’s Jamaican plantation and her mother, a slave, died in childbirth. That was not in the original Fielding. Sophie Wilde (who previously played another Sophie namesake in The Portable Door) is one of the brightest, most watchable members of this ensemble, but her character’s acutely tragic backstory conflicts with Fielding’s original bawdy mock-epic tone, which Hughes still tries to preserve.

Hughes also largely dispenses with the ironic narrator, which was the whole point of Fielding’s novel (and a major reason why post-structuralist literary critics are drawn to Eighteenth Century literature). There are brief voice-overs, recorded by Wilde, at the start and close of each episode, presumably conceived as a means for Sophie Western to “reclaim the narrative,” but they have little wit.