Words: Brooke Pollock
Warning this article contains spoilers.
It’s July of 1981, and the New York Times headline reads: ‘Rare Cancer Seen in Forty-One Homosexuals’. The article states that a number of gay men have died from a ‘mysterious’ form of cancer, and that medical professionals remain unsure of the disease’s effects. We now know, of course, that what they were referring to, was acquired immunodeficiency syndrome – or AIDS.
It’s only appropriate then that Russell T. Davis’ Channel 4 drama It’s a Sin begins in the months that follow. We meet our five, single friends and watch as they live out their lives with the AIDS crisis hot on their heels. For those of us too young to have witnessed the crisis first-hand, it’s an insight that shows how every life was touched by the devastating effects of a positive diagnosis.
My god, I am obsessed. From the writing to the cast, to the celebration of the LGBT+ community, I genuinely think this is one of the best shows I have and will ever see. For a series to be so powerfully touching in just five episodes is a truly phenomenal feat. If you haven’t yet watched the series then now is the time to do so. A word of warning: you will need tissues. A whole box preferably.
It’s watching series like this, that makes me want to create something just as stunning. I think we should start by talking about “La!”, which Davis says he put in as a nod to his own personal youth. In the show, it’s introduced by Ash [Nathaniel Curtis] following Richie’s performance at a housewarming party the night before. This subtle character quirk is one that I’ve become particularly attached to and is how I’ll be greeting people from now on. La!
The cast! Oh my god, the cast! The series wouldn’t be what is without them. I’m a sucker for actor chemistry. If it’s not there, it makes for a boring, and often uncomfortable viewing. It’s a Sin’s cast, however, were absolutely drenched in it; the five friends especially. The relationships and bonds felt authentic. For those five hours, they weren’t actors who had other jobs who had come together to make the show, but rather that they were really living in the Pink Palace in the 80s’ and the audience were simply flies on the wall.
Years and Years frontman, Olly Alexander [Richie] is truly something else. In many scenes, I wanted to both hug and slap Richie all at once – that’s when you know the actor has nailed a role. His delivery of that monologue in episode two where Richie turns to us and breaks the fourth wall to question the validity of AIDs. It’s one of my favourite scenes in the whole series. If Alexander doesn’t win any awards for his performance in this show, I’m willing to wage a war.
His denial, of course, comes from the shame that he feels from growing up in a household which, as Jill {Lydia West] rightly states, is “loveless”. His parents’ dismissive attitude towards both their son and the crisis comes to a head, on multiple occasions, whether it’s when Richie changes from studying Law to Drama at University, or when the disease begins to touch his own life. Of course, the historic dismissal and misinformation that surrounded the HIV/AIDS epidemic caused some to deny the conditions entirely. This narrative is portrayed sensitively yet realistically throughout the entire series and is delivered in such a way that the audience feels wholly touched by these character’s stories.
The series’ leading lady, Jill is the glue that holds this gang together. Davies has said her character is inspired by Jill Nalder, who Davies knew as a teen. As the lives of those closest to her begin to crumble as a result of the life-altering disease, Jill’s determination to understand more about the crisis is commendable. The scene at the end of episode five where she sits with those hospitalised with the condition makes my heart break even just thinking about it.
However, my favourite character has to be Colin [Callum Scott Howells]. His story is one that seems to have touched almost every member of the audience. Because we don’t see him physically have sex in the same way that we do with every other character, I was so confused about how he had contracted AIDS. “It must have been him. He gave it to me, the football shirt,” was his defining line as the disease truly took hold of his body. What football shirt? I mumbled to myself in response, but when I realised who he meant, I actually, physically gasped. His story is, in my opinion, one of the saddest.
But his mum! – Oh, I love Eileen [Andria Doherty]. Her little “La! See, he’s taught me” is just the sweetest little link between Colin’s contrasting Welsh and London lives. The way she treats Colin after his confirmed diagnosis is also a deeply touching moment: “I’m not dirty,” he whispers on the verge of tears. “No one said you were,” she replies. The conversation when he returns home about his friends and how she likes them is also utterly stunning. I really appreciate that Davis cast someone who has a disability too, hankering for inclusivity for a series set in a time of so little.
Crammed into the back of a police van following a protest on the streets of London, we experience yet another brilliantly moving scene. Clutching his bloodied nose, Richie finally admits his diagnosis to Jill and co. “But I’m going to live”, he adds at the last moment. At this point in time, around the years of 87 and 88, treatments such as AZT were emerging for sufferers of HIV/AIDs. Whilst this discovery brought hope for many sufferers and their families, it unfortunately only slowed the inevitable outcome.
Keeley Hawes steals the show in episode five as Richie’s mum, Valerie. As the complete opposite of Colin’s Mum, Eileen, her performance as a distressed, disbelieving mother is amazing (again, awards, please). The meltdown in the ward kitchen, where she calls Jill a “big, monstrous bitch” summarizes the tensions that came from positive diagnoses. Stigma and fear for what family members may think ultimately led for many sufferers to see their final days out alone. However, Valerie is met by the progressive character who overhears her and Jill’s discussion on Richie’s prognosis. “If you didn’t know he was gay all those years, what did you see? When he was 11. When he was 15, 16? How old is he, 30? All 30 years and every little speck of him’s bent as a nine bob note since the day he was born. I’ll ask you again, love: what were you lookin’ at?” this unnamed character says. She is an absolute legend.
Despite his agent imploring him “don’t go home”, a statement that sums up the upset and horror of the AIDs crisis. The phrase also has a “He Who Must Not Be Named” feeling to it- you couldn’t utter the words “HIV” or “AIDs” in the 80s; without the fear of being outraised. Richie eventually does, however, and despite Jill asking to see him, even after travelling to the Isle of Wight, she is denied time and time again by his mother, whose grief leads her to be so unbelievably selfish.
And then he dies. Alone. But not before delivering, again, another beautiful monologue in which he explains that despite his illness, he’s had “so much fun”. It makes me teary-eyed even just thinking about it. And when those credits started rolling, I was broken into pieces. Five out of five stars, no question. Russell T. Davies wrote a masterpiece, and the cast gave what can only be described as a spellbinding and captivating performance. If it doesn’t sweep awards next year, I will be very surprised.
But I think it’s important to end this review with the reminder that though we need to remember the pain and loss AIDs caused only 40 years ago,
We have seen so many advancements since. Both with breakthroughs on treatment that allow HIV and AIDs patients live a near-normal life, and societal ones, such as people being able to live there truth freely with a lot more acceptance.
Remember: AIDS is no longer a death sentence.
For more information, you can visit NHS, HIV.gov & Terrence Higgins Trust
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