Identity Episode Three on ITV1

Aiden Gillen continues to be both the most watch-able part of this series, and the person with the worst dialogue. So much of what he says sounds wooden, but his on-screen charisma is enough to mean it doesn't matter too much.

This week a false identity on the witness protection scheme is breached – and some poor lad has bricks thrown through his bedroom window. It's not his fault; his dad abducted and murdered a little girl a few years back. Someone's after payback, and there's a £3m reward floating around while Gillen chases a man on a motorbike and trying to find the little boy. Meanwhile, Gillen's also checking into a prison as Brendan Shea (to see his Turkish mafia boss) and – the same day? – as DI John Bloom (to see the child-abductor)...this seems bad practice from a copper who's been undercover for fifteen years.

On the plus side, this third episode finally burrows under the skin of the identity theft team and gives them some depth. Tessa (Holly Aird) and Martha (Keeley Hawes) snarl at each other in a pre-cat fight stand-off, and finally there's some tension. It's good to see, but should have been there much earlier. Before that, the (frankly awful interview team) pairing of Wareing (Shaun Parkes) and Rodriguez (Elyes Gabel) swap roles after their last judgemental interview with a possible suspect. This time it's Rodriguez' turn to dish out the accusatory comments, but once again their technique is terrible. They're nearly as bad the stupendously insensitive police interview teams in the BBC's recent The Silence.

On the down side, Bloom still needs to get the hang of office wear and stop turning up to work in his jogging outfits.

Best bit:
Right at the end when a suspicious prison guard gets pictures of Brendan Shea (Aiden Gillen) and John Bloom (Aiden Gillen) on the same computer screen. Ooh, don't they look similar? Like they could be the same man...except that one of them's snarling a bit more.

The episode may still be available to view on itv Player here.

Identity Episode Two in ITV1

Well, at least we know who the woman in the green dress is now. And we know that DSI Martha Lawson (Keeley Hawes) had a point when, last week, she asked DI John Bloom (Aiden Gillen) if he was speaking to his girlfriend on the phone.

Though to be honest, it's not as though Bloom's life really works in terms of a girlfriend, as such. Sure, he's sleeping with the sister of a Turkish Mafia boss (who think he's called Brendan) – but she presumably doesn't know where he dashes off to in the morning...New Scotland Yard. You've got to wonder how undercover this man still is.

This week, Bloom's 9-5 life (which he decides to grace with his presence after disappearing for three days) involves a case of a young woman wanting to be a bit too much like her friend. Fatally so. British Olivia (Laura Aikman) has it all, living in Sydney and enjoying beach parties out of the reach of her parents(and step-mother) in Chelsea. She's also – according to Bloom – stunningly beautiful. No wonder then that her friend, Jane (Joanne Frogatt) wants to be her. One bottle of hair dye and a few seconds with a penknife later, and Jane has a new passport...a new identity.

But again – and this was a problem last time – Identity spends too long on the crime of the week (murder, identity theft) and not long enough on the team investigating it. Again, we see Lawson is under pressure from above regarding her tempestuous recruit, Bloom, but no real sense that anyone (bar Bloom) has a life outside the office. Ignoring (and it might be best ignored) that bizarre moment when DC Jose Rodriguez (Elyes Gabel) and (curiously unranked) Tessa Stein (Holly Aird) discuss previous lovers – Rodriguez really is a rather strange character. It seems any series-long arc is limited to the beginning and end of episodes, which doesn't give us much idea about the people we're watching each week.

Perhaps the seeds to watch for are DS Anthony Wareing's increasing dislike of Bloom, and the shark-faced Atif (Aleksandar Mikic) of the Mafia as he works his way toward the mole responsible for selling out his boss.

Best moment:
Either Anthony (Shaun Parkes, inexplicably billed lower than Gabel) hinting mysteriously that Bloom might be around for much longer, then telling Lawson not to worry about it, or when he asks to photograph the mysteriously cut-free hands of a stab victim...clearly, someone's got an issue with Bloom's unconventional methods.

The episode may still be available to view on itv Player here.

Identity Episode One on ITV1

Identity fraud's a bit of a hot topic these days, as more and more of our lives goes into electronic (traceable) transactions and we're increasingly encouraged to shred documents with personal details on them, just in case. As buying and selling becomes more impersonal, thanks to the rise of the internet and the credit card, so it becomes easier to interfere with the process and remove a person's humanity.

So ITV's drama about a new police unit tracking down identity thieves feels quite pertinent. Modern and highly relevant, in fact. DSI Martha Lawson (Keeley Hawes, taking another high-powered policewoman role focusing on the psychology of criminals, cf. Ashes to Ashes) leads a team that, to be honest, is in danger of merely following a paper trail. In this first episode, they're dealing with a former soldier who claims to have had his identity stolen by a mysterious man known only as Smith. But to be honest, that's not the interesting bit – the episode really gets going about halfway through when the team start to uncover previous victims and the chase hots up. Until then, they're basically following an electronic paper trail, and there's only so much dramatic interest that can be mustered by the coincidence of two people using a Nectar card in the same shop ten minutes apart.

Aiden Gillen (Queer as Folk, The Wire) is on Lawson's team, as John Bloom (yes, he's Irish and called Bloom, get over it Joyce-fans), an ex-undercover copper – see what they did there? He knows all about pretending to be someone else. Hopefully, that explains why he's able to make so many sharp remarks that cut straight through any psychological barriers people try to build up. And why he's so rude... The beginning of this episode sets up a nice tension between him and his new boss (ie. as an undercover copper, he's not used to having a boss), but their relationship takes a bit of a back burner. It's a shame, because this first episode – our first chance to meet the team – doesn't quite make them seem human for a long time. Bloom is also by far the most interesting of the team, and you'll see why in the last four minutes of this first episode. Apart from the fact that he's the only one with a history (undercover with drug smugglers) and something resembling a personality, there's definitely something shifty going on. Whose birthday is he turning up to, and who is that woman in the green dress?

The rest of them, ironically, don't seem to have much in the way of individual identities. Watch out for Shaun Parkes (Small Island, Moses Jones) and Elyes Gabel (Casualty, Apparitions), as the DS and DC respectively, when the younger rebels against this impersonal attitude – it's the first time (hopefully the first of more) that the show opens up the debate around identity theft, justice and the way the state handles such things. More, ITV, more.

Best moment:
Ex-squaddie Curtis: Are you calling me a coward?
Ex-undercover copper Bloom: I'm calling you a big...fat...girl's blouse.

The episode may still be available to view on itv Player here.

Gazza's Tears: The Night that Changed Football on ITV1

According to this wobbly tear-jerker of a documentary, the moment when Paul Gascoigne burst into tears in 1990's World Cup changed the nature of English football forever. No, really – forever.

Just look at that title; football changed. Overnight. Completely. Forever. Which you'd think this documentary would then go on to prove. You could be forgiven for expecting an hour's program that tells its viewers about a) the state of English football before that infamous match (England vs. West Germany, World Cup semi-final, 1990, if you're interested), b) the state of English football after that match (when Gazza's tears had changed it) and c) exactly how the aforementioned tears changed anything.

That isn't what happens. Instead, viewers are presented with a lengthy description of England's campaign in 1990's World Cup – one that doesn't stint on emotional intensity, patriotic optimism, talking heads and assumptions that its audience knows how the campaign ended. There's a certain air of nostalgia to all this; those that remember Italia '90, before English football became a multi-million pound business, get a glimpse of the good old days. Days when England's team were more interested in drinking than playing, when a defeat resulted in the team and manager being savaged by the press, and the fans were almost synonymous with hooligans...actually, not that much different from today. In fact, the rash optimism (phrases like 'we can go all the way') of fans has been echoed – despite England's poor performances against the USA, Algeria and Slovenia – in the 2010 World Cup. So, twenty years later the sense of disappointment felt when the team crashes out (despite this being fairly predictable from the start) is still present. What exactly did Gazza change when he cried in the semi-final against West Germany?

It's a question this documentary resolutely fails to answer. In fact, it poses the question in its title, then promptly ignores it. Its interest lies in reminding viewers about how close England came back in 1990. The film-makers aren't afraid to over-egg the pudding (but then that's often the problem with England's national side); with West Germany victorious (4-3 on penalties), England fans felt 'grief', apparently...they were disappointed, yes, fair enough, but to compare it to a death in the family seems a bit strong. Worse is when one former player laments how close England came to winning the Cup...then corrects himself when he remembers that they were only playing for a place in the final. It's not the same thing as winning the tournament; there's another 90 minutes (at least) after that.

Once viewers have been walked down the familiar path to defeat (and the tour bus that greeted the defeated team in England), this documentary almost goes back to its opening section – which was a cursory nod to the modern nature of English football, all glamour, big spending and high ticket prices. But no. Instead, some more emotional overkill, wheeling out Sir Bobby to watch a match played as a tribute to him and his long career just before he lost his battle with cancer. Touching as it all is, and undoubtedly genuine as more tears from Gazza are, it tells viewers nothing about the new nature of English football, or how that may have changed since 1990. The film merely asserts that such a change has taken place. Repeating a fact does not make it more true.

Is it so much to ask that ITV documentaries have some facts, or even some investigation, to back up their statements? Or that those documentaries have titles that reflect their content? Sure, the title grabs attention, makes it sound like the film examines a turning-point in sporting history...but that's not true. It's an examination (and an emotional, subjective one at that) of Bobby Robson's 1990 World Cup and later tribute. So why not call it that?


The show may still be available to view on ITVPlayer here.

The Soloist

Man is a social creature. No matter what the company he keeps, he invariably wants to exist in company.

He – or she, for that matter – also tends to think of himself before others, which is called greed and has led over the centuries to massive differences between the most impoverished and the most wealthy of humanity. There's a line in ITV's recent Wuthering Heights where Heathcliff says he made his fortune by taking advantage of other men's weaknesses – and it's a sentiment that rings very true for all fortunes made on the back of some exploited person.

Exploitation is a big theme hanging over true-story The Soloist. It's the latest film about a gifted person in poverty (and with mental health issues on this occasion), who meets someone that sees his talent and wants to help him. That would be sweet, if it weren't for the fact that the person helping him is reporter for the LA Times – Steve Lopez (Robert Downey Jr.) – who features this homeless, schizophrenic prodigy of a musician in his newspaper column and picks up a journalism award for it. As he picks up his award, his ex-wife jokes that he's exploiting this man – Nathaniel Ayers (Jamie Foxx) – and tells him he should write a book as well as the column. She neglects to mention the film that would be adapted from that book.

Meanwhile, Ayers is slumming it with the 90,000 homeless people of Los Angeles. He's been homeless since running away from the college course that allowed him to play cello in an orchestra, which went downhill once he started hearing voices. Now he's down-sized and plays his two-stringed violin in the streets. He's the soloist of the title, but this story belongs to Lopez. He's the reporter that starts off telling his readers about Ayers, but then gets more involved until he's writing about the ways that he's changing Ayers' life – whether Ayers likes it or not.

While such philanthropy is admirable, it seems misplaced, or perhaps misjudged. Lopez directs his efforts at one man, who only appreciates it some of the time. He's a man uncomfortable indoors, a man who is happiest listening to the sounds of Beethoven's string compositions swelling through the city air and mingling with the sounds of the freeway traffic and building work. Lopez's intrusive 'help' sees him moved to an apartment, and away from the sounds of people that had surrounded him. While it seems an improvement on the crowded slum (crowded mostly with black and mentally handicapped people, the oft-ignored side of America), Ayers has chosen that slum over the apartment he used to have.

It seems the American Dream in which everyone is free to do as s/he pleases has gone sour, as Lopez imposes his help on Ayers while using his story to win awards (and presumably Brownie points at the local philanthropists' club), and a cello teacher tries to convert the prodigy to God.

Boy Meets Girl on ITV1

There aren't many things that get my Feminist hackles rising. I'm not a Feminist, or even a woman, so it takes quite a bit for me to get annoyed about the portrayal of women on screen (or stage, or in print etc.). ITV's Boy Meets Girl was enough.

As the title implies, this is a gender-swap show. Apparently, it's a comedy; the laughs are – present, yes, but – pretty few and far between, to be honest. Martin Freeman's blokey bloke, Danny, finds himself mysteriously zapped into the body of fashion journalist Veronica (Rachael Stirling), after an implausible meeting outside a power generator. There's a nice bit of flashback to tell us how Danny got there, and it sets him up as an interesting character, while leaving Veronica's past largely blank.

And that's the problem with Boy Meets Girl – it's all about Danny. Veronica is vapid (and that's not just handy alliteration, she really is vacuous – her mind as well her story). The first episode focusses on what Danny – in Veronica's body – did after the body-zapping. Without wanting to ruin it for you, s/he got rushed to hospital to be collected by the one bright spark of the episode: Paterson Joseph (I tell a lie: Danny's B&Q co-workers are alright as well). After that, we've essentially got what feels like a conveyor belt of man-in-a-woman's-body scenarios. Which is fine, but the woman-in-a-man's-body stuff is conspicuous by its absence. The ITV blurb only tells us about what happens to Danny, and that bias is seen throughout the show.

So, what does this man-in-a-woman's-body learn? Predictably, he has fun with his new breasts and a vibrator. He also learns that the woman whose life he now has – the fashion journalist, remember? cue derogatory scowls and cries of 'fashion journalist?' - may well be having an affair with her friend's man (who happens to have 'callous, womanising jerk' written all over his smug face). The sort of man you'd have to be pretty dim to want to have a relationship with. Danny (as Veronica) has conversations with her female friend where they essentially say that men are rubbish. Somehow it's not very fresh or satisfying. In fact, it's all rather obvious, and that conversation is especially awkward; it just doesn't feel real.

What quickly became obvious is that Boy Meets Girl was written by a man, imagining what it would be like in a woman's body. I checked – no, really, I hate to make baseless assumptions – and it turns out that writer David Allison is indeed a man. Gosh. This may be why we have such vapid women, who somehow can't fend for themselves. Occasionally, Veronica (as Danny) is seen drifting around looking confused – which is understandable, but at the same time, Danny (as Veronica) has adjusted and slipped into her life by convincing everybody that s/he is just a bit shaken after her electrocution.

The female fashion journalist is utterly incompetent, while the male DIY store worker scorns writing horoscopes but can barely handle stilettos. That's all you need to know about this stereotyped, one-sided affair.