As any aficionado knows, most science fiction is not really about the future. It is a mirror of the times it is written in. It is an excellent medium for asking questions about the problems we face now, as well as in the possible future. Not just the issues raised by new sciences, by the environment, but social dilemmas. Much of the best SF recognises that people themselves remain remarkably unchanged in their essential motives and desires, regardless of the technology around them. So when we watch these six dramas that tried to predict the future, it is pointless to see the mistakes, the predictions which are wide of the mark, or the dreadful fashions that remain firmly in the Eighties. These are plays about the problems facing the audience of 1982 rather than inhabitants of the future. Despite the title of the mini-series, Play for Tomorrow is firmly in the tradition of Play for Today, six stories inspired by what was going on around the writers in their contemporary life. Nuclear war, unemployment and political activism loom large in these six plays.
The concept first germinated after Play for Today's entertaining time travel story, The Flipside of Dominic Hyde became an unexpected breakthrough success with the television audience and enjoyed a warm response from the critics as well. Sensing a gap in television drama that was not being filled, the producers of Play for Today commissioned six writers to produce speculative stories about what life in Britain would be like around the end of the twentieth century. Before they began to plot, the production team arranged a meeting for them with a panel of experts who told them their predictions about the way technology and society would evolve.
Each play began with a simple urgent synthesiser tune, accompanied by a computer graphic of a cube rolling towards the screen then freezing and the title appearing. The mood of the series was almost unremittingly downbeat, in common with many television dramas of the time. The near future was going to be a dehumanising time where increasing technology isolated people from one another or controlled their lives for the worse. Only Cricket broke the mould, with a fairly lightweight drama about a group of terribly English suburban rebels. However this was not gloom for its own sake. All the dramas are intelligent, original and none of them feel as if they are cut down movie scripts or padded Twilight Zone pastiches. In many ways they feel like a fifth season of BBC2's marvellous Out of the Unknown anthology, sharing that series' sobriety and ambition.
In an increasingly controlled and monitored Britain, living under the shadow of a possible nuclear war, Crimes (2002) by Caryl Churchill wondered who are the real criminals and what will be considered a crime? Melvyn, a leading expert in criminal psychiatry, is at home reviewing the video of his latest group therapy session in prison. Meanwhile his bored wife Veronica wanders about their living room, discussing their forthcoming house move. The therapy session starts off with a video of Melvyn's star patient Jane. This personable young woman is a murderer and a prolific arsonist, but an electronic implant and psychotherapy has transformed her into a model citizen. The discussion moves on from her treatment to the behaviour of individuals amongst the prisoners. Ron loathes having to live in the city and wants to spend all his time in the country. However the countryside is tightly regulated and patrolled by the authorities. The public is supposed to keep to designated leisure areas, but Ron keeps stepping over the barriers and walking afield. Elliot is a political activist on hunger strike. He refuses to talk about his own case but wants to tell the story of his old neighbour, a woman who was arrested for disobeying a police officer. The officer had been beating a suspect and had ordered her to go indoors. As Melvyn switches off the video recorder, Veronica reminds him that their nightly government television programme is about to start. It is called "Select and Survive" and its cheerful host has plenty of helpful advice for building and defending a nuclear war bunker. Veronica's earlier conversation about their friend Larry coming to live with them now takes on a new meaning.
A surprisingly static play to launch the series, Crimes could almost be a radio production since most of it comprises of long monologues directed straight to camera in tight close-up. Indeed Caryl Churchill's writing background was primarily in radio and theatre. By far the most engrossing is Elliot's savage but intelligent protests about police brutality and the ways in which the prison authorities have tried to break his resolve. Jane is cheerfully earnest as she retells her murderous crime spree, her annoyance at not being suspected and her delight at her 'cure' in which she is monitored via electronic implant. However her piece seems a bit too arch and so it lacks some of the impact it should have. Ron's tale of his fascination with the countryside does tend to drag, making the middle of the play rather heavy going. The picture they paint of a regimented, urbanised country, where the authorities exercise a firm hand over the population, is certainly unappealing. There is little doubt as far as the script is concerned that the government is in the wrong and its sympathies are with the resentful prisoners. . "Select and Survive" is almost a comedy sketch in itself and oddly anticipates the current vogue for makeover shows. It's certainly darkly amusing to watch its matey presenter discussing the merits of an automatic machine gun and outlining why it is okay to shoot your neighbours in a post-apocalyptic world. The cool relationship between Melvyn and Veronica is a clever piece of misdirection, since for a while we assume that the talked about Larry has had an affair with Veronica or Melvyn suspects he might try to have one. But in fact his discomfort arises from realising that for all his progressive ideas and sophistication, when it comes to sharing his precious hi-tech bunker, his instinct is decidedly basic. Veteran actor T P McKenna played Melvyn and Sylvestra Le Touzel was his favourite student Jane.
The EEC has failed and Europe is embroiled in another conventional war, according to Bright Eyes (1999) by Peter Prince. On New Year's Eve, Sam Howard sits in a hi-tech prison in France, waiting for a chance to see his daughter Cathy before she is executed for her role in the assassination of a right-wing politician. As the press pack outside clamour for a statement, he thinks back over previous New Year Eve's and his changing relationship with his daughter. He and her mother divorced when she only a child but he tried his best to stay close to her. Later on, when she was in her late teens, he criticised her and her friends for being complacent and not caring about politics, unlike he and her mother who had been student radicals. Now he finds her an apparently cold-eyed revolutionary. Naturally Sam feels as if he is partially to blame for her current position but how can he make up for the lost years? Can he persuade her to co-operate with the authorities and so commute her death sentence? Should he even try? Perhaps he could even support her actions?
In terms of crystal gazing, this is probably the most far-fetched of the stories but its theme of uncomfortable radicalism versus dubious compromise could be retold in any modern conflict in Africa or former Yugoslavia. It's only major difference is in seeing the conflict in terms of formal nations rather than less accountable guerrilla forces. The impersonal futuristic main set is instantly recognisable as a BBC vision of hi-tech and would not look out of place on Blake's 7. The plot certainly keeps the viewer guessing as to how it will end. Will Cathy ask for clemency and a prison sentence? The French authorities are keen to offer such a chance, because they are embarrassed about the bad publicity of executing an attractive young woman who was only an accessory. But Cathy feels that that would be a betrayal of her principles. Has she not sworn to give her life if necessary? The tone of the play is such that either alternative would be a logical conclusion. The reasons for the European war remain vague and there is a corresponding feeling of artificiality about the whole story. Only Sam feels like a fully rounded character, with everyone else acting as mouthpieces for various debating positions.
All is not as it seems in Cricket (1997) by Michael Wilcox. The members of Coanwood Cricket Club meet to decide on the line-up for the forthcoming match against Blenkinsop. It is a key match and the selection committee decides to use the Wisden Computer Service, a talking database, which contains archives and videos of the history of English cricket and using them, can suggest winning strategies. However whilst listening to the meeting, it slowly unravels that the real purpose of the club is as a front for a guerrilla movement which is battling the much more powerful Forestry Commission.
For some reason this satirical drama is the hardest to obtain of all the episodes. A nice touch is that one of the best-loved voices of BBC cricket, Brian Johnston, supplies the voice of the Wisden computer.
Punningly entitled, The Nuclear Family (1999) by Tom McGrath, depicted a future where the old roles for men and women, parents and children were being challenged by new technology. All is far from well in the Brown family. Joe Brown is middle-aged, unemployed and reducing to sitting in his cramped flat, raging impotently at his life. His wife Agnes is a secret drinker and does little except order pizza each day from the machine in the wall. Their teenage children Gary and Ann support the family with data processing jobs, working from computer terminals in their bedroom. Gary has little respect for his parents and resents handing over his wages to his overbearing father. Anne tries to be a peacemaker but she is beginning to become as cynical as her older brother. Joe decides that what his family needs is a change and books them on a working holiday at Sea Bed 6, an underwater navy base housing nuclear warheads. At first they are horrified and the hard physical labour and utilitarian living conditions are something of a shock to Agnes and the children. However, their holiday proves to have unexpected developments. Joe delights in his work and forms a friendship with a kindred spirit, navy superior Sgt Smellie. Agnes is forced to face her alcoholism by a computerised psychiatrist. Gary discovers that he still has a lot to learn about real experience, as opposed to cyberspace, when the lovely Able-bodied Andrews brusquely seduces him. Anne must accept that if she wants to have a life of her own, she has to stop playing the little girl. It seems as though the Browns are on the mend, but life is never that straightforward and a tragedy is about to test them.
Quite prescient in its view of an enclosed, couch potato, Internet addicted lifestyle that today's experts are indeed warning about. The main difference though is that this play sees that existence forced on us by unemployment and low-quality jobs, whereas today the working population seems to be actively choosing a sedentary, more separated life. In the case of the Browns it seems worse because of their small cramped flat where they are living on top of each other. The general message of the story seems to be that too much technology is bad for the soul and people are almost unconsciously surrendering too much control to machines. But once the family move to Sea Bed 6, the message becomes more complicated. There is certainly a feeling that the family's experiences have been pre-arranged, from Joe's whiskey fuelled heart to hearts with Smellie, to Gary losing his virginity. The computer psychiatrist does seem to offer real help to Agnes and possibly its impersonal nature helps her unburden herself more. But there are hints that psychiatry software might be addictive in itself to an attention-starved woman. Ultimately, how free were their choices during their holiday and have they guided into becoming an efficient, healthier model for the benefit of the state, rather than themselves? The play concludes oddly. Back home, the Browns have been reconciled. Agnes is cooking soup for the first time in years but it is ruined by everyone independently adding extra salt. Whether this is just a wry joke to end on, or some kind of analogy is not clear. The play is framed by the image of a satellite, which may be monitoring the Browns and others from space. Also the screen sometimes splits into four images, one for each family member, as if being viewed on some closed circuit system. Russell Hunter puts in a juicy cameo as the over-familiar Sgt Smellie.
An elaborate scheme to neutralise the problem of youth unemployment formed the setting of Shades (1999) by Stephen Lowe. After leaving school, unemployed teenagers are comfortably housed in vast computer controlled skyscrapers. Here they spend their days immersed in virtual reality worlds via their special VR sunglasses. Everything from sport to pornography is accessible. The other main source of entertainment, aside from the age-old past-times of gossip and dating are 'socials', hosted by different floors. When a group decides to base their latest social around early Eighties pop culture and specifically the CND marches, one of them, Sheena, becomes increasingly obsessed by the history of the time and one particular girl protestor in the grainy television footage. It leads her to question the assumptions of herself and her friends. Sheena suspects that the real purpose of the housing project is to condition them all into docility and shallowness, leaving the government to rule without opposition. Unable to find any support for her views amongst her neighbours, she becomes increasingly isolated. Suddenly she wakes up to find herself in a student bed-sit on the day of the CND march, with all her friends now appearing as Eighties versions of themselves. Has she had a breakdown and entered a fantasy past? Or is she a schoolgirl who has been dreaming of a fantasy future? In either reality, can she find any personal happiness?
The most obviously science fiction appearing of the series, with the cast wearing shiny leisuresuits and living in an open plan futuristic environment with wall sized TV screens. Possibly the most successful entry in the season, it's a story about the way good intentions can sometimes have bad consequences. It's about personal problems versus abstract dilemmas and the way either can become an unhelpful refuge from the other. It echoes the likes of Logan's Run and The Stepford Wives but subverts them too. Cleverly, the play remains ambiguous as to whether there really is a deliberate government policy to suppress the teenagers or whether it is more of an unfortunate consequence of their apparent affluence. Science Fiction is full of heroes who wake up and question the world around them, eventually fighting back and bringing down the system. Shades plays with that sub-genre and underminds it by suggesting that such people are in denial about their own problems and are paranoid, seeing conspiracies which are not there. Or if they the ones who can see the truth, unfortunately not enough people are listening. One prediction that has certainly come true is that the issue of nuclear armageddon, which weighed on so many people's minds in the early eighties, has faded into the background noise of public consciousness. As Sheena tries to explain to her friends, the missiles are still there and there are still more than enough of them to finish the human race. But in the world of the skyscraper, and perhaps in our own real world of Trisha and counselling, it is personal happiness and relationships which are the focus. At the play's climax Sheena's genuinely concerned friends hold a conference and suggest that her CND obsession is really a mask for her real fears about growing up and having a mature relationship with someone. She eventually admits she might be wrong about herself. The play ends with the Eighties party, where Sheena thanks her friends for their support and everyone dances the night away, whilst the news footage reels on unnoticed in the background. Her questions have been subdued, ironically not by sinister government agencies but by friendship and the need to belong. Amongst the young cast is future TV regular Neil Pearson as Adam.
The scars of Northern Ireland's history will take generations to heal and there are no easy answers in the final play Easter 2016 (2016) by Graham Reid. A wall still divides Belfast but the integrated teacher training college seems to offer a ray of hope. It's liberal principle Cyril Brown certainly thinks so but on his return after a serious illness, he is concerned by the growing influence of the security director Lennie North. In the name of college security, North has armed his guards and set up a network of informers reporting on 'subversive' statements by students or staff. North also makes little secret of his disdain for Brown and his politics. Their power plays are soon brought to a head when a group of students led by charismatic lecturer Connor Mullan want to commemorate the Dublin Easter Rising of 1916 by staging a re-enactment of the key rally. North wants to ban it outright but Mullan resents the security chief interfering in what he and his fellow academics can study and how they want to do it. Before long the campus is breaking down into collaborators, ostriches and rebels. Outmanoeuvred by his security director, Brown begins to believe that desperate measures are needed to depose the seemingly unstoppable North. But he has forgotten that decisive acts always result in innocent victims.
A depressing play, made all the more so by the recent real life schisms in Northern Ireland around education. The story has no easy answers, suggesting that those who want to bring peace to the region will have to play a very long game indeed. In the short term, the liberal voices of compromise in this story seem absolutely ineffectual for most of the time against the emotional aggressive mind-set of total victory or nothing, represented by North. But at the same time, North's hard line policing methods only result in more anger and violence. Not only that, but both sides are weakened by personal flaws. Brown's vanity, wanting his college programme to be hailed as a great success tempts him into a dreadful crime. Mullan's egotism and messy private life give his enemies the ammunition they need. North's paranoia and need to control everyone proves to be his undoing. Despite the play's date there are almost no futuristic touches, save for the odd wall screen. Perhaps fittingly, the careers of all three men are effectively destroyed by the events on campus. Quite a few famous or soon to be famous faces appear in this programme. Derrick O'Connor played North, Bill Nighy was Mullan, Colm Meaney played one of Mullan's students Murphy and a young Kenneth Branagh appeared as an unnamed student protester.
It is easy to eulogise the drama output of yesterday and complain about the lack of it on today's schedules. But it is hard to think of any modern place for a series like Play for Tomorrow without a heavyweight champion to push it through. In a television landscape dominated by very domestic soap plots and profession based dramas about doctors and policemen, a thoughtful science fiction series like this seems out of place. The odd Science Fiction play wriggles under the fence, such as Channel 4's Solid Geometry or BBC4's Home. But maybe the recent success of The Caterbury Tales will bring the anthology format back into vogue? Maybe somewhere there could be space for some more playwrights to look forward thirty years or so. No doubt their predictions will tell us as much about our here and now, as this series reminded us about the fears of 1982.
Play for Tomorrow