The week in TV: Mrs America; Stateless; The Kemps: All True; There She Goes; Manhunt - review

Mrs America BBC Two | iPlayer
Stateless Netflix
The Kemps: All True BBC Two | iPlayer
There She Goes BBC Two | iPlayer
Manhunt: The Raoul Moat Story ITV | ITV Hub

The new nine-part series Mrs America was created by Dahvi Waller, who also worked on Mad Men, and in some ways you could make a case for it being about “mad women”. It’s a candid snapshot of second-wave US feminism in the 1970s, when there was plenty for women to be mad about, not least the story told here: the shock derailment of the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) by a group of Republican female activists led by Phyllis Schlafly, portrayed by co-executive producer Cate Blanchett.

With directors including Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck, Mrs America comes across as a who’s who of feminist trailblazers, sometimes carrying their own episodes. Rose Byrne plays Gloria Steinem, the intellectual firecracker pressured to use her good looks by other feminists. “Who cares why they’re listening, they’re listening,” declares the pragmatic Bella Abzug (Margo Martindale). Tracey Ullman is the refreshingly gobby, immodest Betty Friedan (“I am the women’s movement!”). Elsewhere, Uzo Aduba excels as Shirley Chisholm, the first black congresswoman, frustrated at not being supported in her presidential bid. Indeed, the episodes available for preview before these pages went to press (all of them are available on iPlayer) do not flinch from depicting the casual racism that infected feminism. When Margaret Sloan-Hunter (Bria Henderson), co-founder of the National Black Feminist Organization, suggests writing about tokenism during an editorial meeting at Steinem’s Ms magazine, the idea is brusquely shot down.

Related: 'Chisholm made Obama possible': director Amma Asante on Mrs America's real star

Blanchett’s challenge is to humanise Schlafly, the ultimate conservative mean girl, who claims to stand for ordinary homemakers, while disingenuously pursuing her own political ambitions with unladylike zeal. Schlafly is revealed as part-feminist antichrist, part-turbo-charged hypocrite. She suffers relentless sexist indignities, including being patronised on talk shows (“Don’t forget to smile”) and harassed by sex pests, yet still opines: “I’ve never been discriminated against.” At one point, an exhausted Schlafly is pushed into having sex by her husband – played by John Slattery (a welcome hangover from Mad Men, along with smoking scenes and meticulous period detail). If Schlafly emerges humanised, so too do the major feminist players. Paradoxically, for a study of the devastating ERA defeat – and therefore feminist failure – Mrs America deftly showcases the second wave’s grit, integrity, dedication and passion. Mad women? You bet. And thank God they were.

Blanchett also co-produced and stars in the complex six-part Australian drama Stateless. Inspired by true events, written by Belinda Chayko and Elise McCredie (who also co-created the series with Blanchett and Tony Ayres), and directed by Emma Freeman and Jocelyn Moorhouse, Stateless tells the stories of people trapped in different ways at a desert-bound Australian immigration detention centre.

Fayssal Bazzi is extraordinary as Ameer, an Afghan schoolteacher cheated by people-smugglers, whose wife and child drowned on the way over, and who is desperate for visas for himself and his surviving daughter (Soraya Heidari). With echoes of the real-life case of Cornelia Rau, Yvonne Strahovski (The Handmaid’s Tale) plays Sofie, a psychologically unravelling Australian flight attendant, detained after a series of lies, mistakes and abuses, not least by creepy cult leaders – played by Blanchett and Dominic West. Elsewhere, the stressed camp director (Asher Keddie) battles in vain to maintain control, while a new guard (Jai Courtney) finds himself becoming increasingly brutalised.

I loved Strahovski’s performance, and understood the need for its inclusion (how do people feel about “one of their own” ending up in such camps?). However, on occasion, Sofie’s atypical narrative dominates to the point of dragging focus away from the everyday refugee nightmare. That said, forcing any nation to confront its immigration reality is a tough dramatic sell. Stateless more than succeeds in weaving together disparate narratives without exploding into a confusing, preachy dust storm.

Are Spandau Ballet’s Gary and Martin Kemp the anti-Bros? Their mockumentary The Kemps: All True, written and directed by Rhys Thomas, was a knowing nod to the lovably unforgettable, occasionally rather dark, Matt and Luke Goss documentary, Bros: After the Screaming Stops, which taught the world a hard showbiz lesson: never underestimate the stupidity of Bros.

Could the Kemps’ attempt at a two-man Spinal Tap be as funny with the protagonists in on the joke? The answer was yes, sprinkled with a few nos. Occasionally the jokes stuttered, and co-stars like Anna Maxwell Martin were wasted. As a vegetarian, I didn’t feel offended enough by Gary’s Wonge vegetarian food range that was 65% meat. However, the Kemps emerged as great sports, their acting background paid off with solid comic timing, and there was a firm grasp of rock cliches and the mockumentary style: “This is the very first time they’ve been back to their childhood home since their last documentary three years ago.” As a side-note, Martin’s film franchise idea “the hardest British bastards in the galaxy” (Daniel Mays as Dick Turpin: “Stand and deliver, you twats!”) would probably work as a real pitch, and I deserve a cut for suggesting this.

There She Goes, now returning for its second series, and starring Bafta-winning Jessica Hynes (Emily) and David Tennant (Simon) as parents of a daughter, Rosie (Miley Locke), with severe learning difficulties, is a defiantly dark comedy based on the real-life experiences of writers Shaun Pye and Sarah Crawford, whose own daughter was born with a severe chromosomal disorder. Do not come to this show expecting sweet-hearted platitudes. As before, this series is based in two time zones (Rosie as a toddler and as an 11-year-old), and the couple are sarcastic, frayed, and argue viciously, with Simon considering leaving.

Other series such as The A Word do a great job of featuring life with disabled children, but perhaps There She Goes goes further to convey nerve-shredded family dynamics. When the couple are told that toddler-Rosie has an IQ of 47, but will be assessed again, Simon retorts: “We’ll make sure she revises harder.” This is a courageous, heartbreaking show, and Locke as Rosie is dynamite.

Manhunt: The Raoul Moat Story is a Nicky Campbell documentary about the eight days in 2010 when Moat shot three people, before going on the run and eventually shooting himself. Former convict Moat had such loathing for the Northumbrian police that when he mistakenly believed his ex, Samantha Stobbart, was seeing a policeman, he shot and killed karate instructor Christopher Brown. He also wounded Stobbart, and blinded a police officer, David Rathband (who later killed himself).

As Moat was cornered, the footballer Paul Gascoigne, who knew him, turned up bearing, among other items, cooked chicken and a fishing rod. Arguably just as surreal was how some people started following Moat’s trajectory on rolling news coverage, almost as though it was “good telly”. Depressingly, Moat went on to become a totem of toxic masculinity, remembered and venerated far more than his victims. In death as in life, Moat must own his crimes, but I’m not sure this was the British public’s greatest moment either.