I had the misfortune of watching a programme last night called “Scotland's Smoking Gun”. It was billed as a “documentary series focused on the upcoming Scottish referendum. This first programme looks at some of the worldwide events that have contributed to the need for a referendum”.
The first thing that jarred about it was the title; it didn’t make sense. It was like they knew “Road to Referendum” had already been taken, but after several boozy lunches had reached their deadline without thinking of anything better.
A smoking gun is something which provides conclusive evidence, usually of a crime. And yet that was not the sense in which the programme makers were using the phrase. Rather, they seemed to think it meant something like a catalyst or impetus. Perhaps the phrase they had in mind was “starting pistol”?
However, that doesn’t quite work, either. “Scotland’s starting pistol”? Wouldn’t that be about the beginnings of Scotland – Gaels, Picts, Angles and Brythonic Celts, and all that? This, though, was a programme about the independence referendum, and what set it in motion. So shouldn’t it have been the “Referendum Starting Pistol”?
The next thing that jarred was that having chosen this bizarre phrase as a title, it had to be crow-barred into the script from time to time. Was Elvis “Scotland’s Smoking Gun”, we were asked? Well, no, he wasn’t, because that doesn’t even make sense.
We are by now quite used to the format of being shown newsreels while pop music of the day plays in the background. It was pioneered by the BBC in their “Rock ‘n’ Roll Years” series, and it’s a good way of creating a nostalgic sense of the era. So, yes, play us some Elvis, but don’t ask us to imagine that Elvis was part of the motivation for the referendum. He wasn’t. Nor was he “Scotland’s Smoking Gun”, whatever that might mean.
This crow-barring of the weird phrase into the script was taken to its most crass extreme when we were asked to ponder whether 9/11 was “Scotland’s Smoking Gun”.
The next jarring element was the very odd decision occasionally to pluck a phrase one of the talking heads had uttered and have it floating as text next to their heads. “This phrase”, the programme makers seemed to be saying, “is something you might want to consider more fully. We’ll put it on display for you, so that you can remember it while our interviewee is uttering the next sentence”. Except, the phrases thus illustrated were generally insignificant and banal, and seemingly chosen completely at random. It was surreal, and often very funny. Had something of Vic and Bob’s sitcom seeped from the next slot into this?
The overall effect was of being patronised by a confused child.
I wasn’t expecting anything of any great depth. And we did get to hear Clare Grogan narrate, which is always a good thing. (Though she must have asked many times, “Are you sure you really want me to say this?”). And I’m quite happy with newsreel and rock music programmes, but this came across as something quickly and badly cobbled together.
