The Politician’s Husband is a soggy sandwich with delicious ingredients. The slices of bread – those scenes in Parliament and replica television news reports – are repulsively unconvincing. But the filling is a powerful metaphor for gender politics as we witness a mammoth but hidden struggle between husband and wife.
At first, the simple errors in production (why is their son getting ready for the school day at 4:10pm?) and the overly-blatant portrayal of chosen themes (the writing does a solid job of conveying such damning views of modern politics without the acting being so direct about it) leaves us unimpressed. But to focus entirely on these logistical features would be unwise as, beyond the limp surface, the series highlights the political world of ruthless competitiveness and merciless ambition that ignores the interests of the country – and indeed its people. Any ideological drive or inspiration someone might hold is quickly eliminated by the pressure of the system. And then it’s only about party politics, authority, conflicts and games: an accurate and depressing reality.
Aiden (David Tennant) resigns from the front bench in a failed leadership attempt, and in the following cabinet reshuffle, his wife Freya is appointed a minister. Aiden is forced to return to a life of political obscurity, while Freya, finally out of her husband’s shadow, is faced with a choice between her own career ambitions and publicly supporting her spouse.
These days Tennant is all over the BBC like a rash (True Love, Broadchurch, now this and next The Escape Artist), so we are forgiven for finding him unrealistic as a highly-regarded politician. But he tremendously portrays Aiden’s motivations as the stuff of Shakespearean tragedy – jealousy, greed, lust and revenge. The scenes in his constituency contrast Aiden’s now mundane political life with that of his wife, and he illustrates the Mirror’s “A nasty politician – what are the chances?” headline with aplomb.
The engrossing persona of Freya – unflinchingly portrayed by Emily Watson – exemplifies the metaphorical battlefield of her political career and how it inhabits her home life with Aiden.
And so there emerges a split in the series’ audience: those who support the politician, and those who favour her husband.
The strength of the script allows us to both detest the two politicians and still back them. They are brutally unpleasant, yet we find ourselves somehow sympathetic; we want them to triumph. ‘The desire to be a politician should be enough to ban you from ever becoming one,’ said Billy Connolly, and oh how The Politician’s Husband does its best to stress that.
It’s an engaging series with plenty of plot forks and possibilities, with deceit, betrayal and egotism intensely underlined throughout. But truly, amongst the entertaining plot and provocative characters, we are missing something. With better acting and a more subtle portrayal of the harsh world of modern politics, we could have been treated to the full package.
THREE STARS