Will It Always Be Too Soon To Make a TV Drama About Jimmy Savile?

By Kayleigh Donaldson | TV | October 10, 2023 |

By Kayleigh Donaldson | TV | October 10, 2023 |

Mere minutes into the first episode of The Reckoning, a four-part docudrama about the lives and crimes of serial pedophile Jimmy Savile, one of his victims declares, ‘He groomed the whole nation.’ It’s an idea we’ve been reckoning with as a nation since the obscene extent of Savile’s crimes was revealed. How did it pass us by? I remember seeing a lot of Americans on Twitter wondering how someone who was ‘so obviously a predator’ could go unpunished for so long. It never made sense to so many, British or otherwise, how he could disguise himself with the truth. Endless years of systemic cover-ups mean we may never know how truly deep the rot lies. How can a mere TV drama even come close to figuring it out?

The Reckoning feels like the kind of story that will always be seen as ‘too soon’ to tell. The BBC, which is producing and broadcasting this, was complicit in cultivating a breeding ground of abuse for Savile and others for a very long time. Some see it as an act of arrogance for the Beeb to turn this story into content, regardless of their intent or the craft behind it. What could be a greater symbol of the entertainment world’s lack of self-awareness than turning their own crimes into prestige awards bait? And to cast a comedian who did a Savile impersonation as part of his act in the lead role?

Adapted from the biography In Plain Sight by Dan Davies, The Reckoning is structured around Davies (played by Mark Stanley) interviewing Savile for the book and trying to crack a notoriously difficult nut. Savile turns on the charm to evade softballs, getting snappish as Davies pushes him for answers. When Davies asks about the prevalent rumours that he liked ‘young girls’, Savile denies it but seems less bothered by the accusation than questions about his dedication of Catholicism.

Every British comic had a Savile impression, and Steve Coogan’s was just one of many you could have seen on UK TV over the decades. The once-and-future Alan Partridge is a gifted mimic, and he certainly has that skin-crawling oft-parodied voice down. Mercifully free of prosthetics, he plays the role from the 1960s onwards, from gangster-esque local DJ to ‘national treasure.’ There’s such a fine line between the kooky celebrity and the calculating attacker, and when the thinnest of veils slips, Coogan shines. His seething need for his mother’s approval (played by Gemma Jones as a scornful figure of an older generation with conflicted feelings about her youngest son) fuels Savile to be bigger and more ‘respectable than ever.’ As quickly as he can turn the charm on, he can turn it off, and there’s a palpable change in the air when he does so. This is no comedic bit; it’s a performance, and a fully lived-in one at that. Montages of images of the real Savile over the decades remind us that, yes, this is what he was like.

The victims’ testimonies open the series, with various individuals candidly discussing how they were targeted, preyed upon, and endlessly maligned by Savile over the course of decades. Throughout, we see the young people who Savile singles out at the discos and shows he hosts. He stalks through dance halls, hospitals, and TV sets looking for the loners, the fangirls, and the ones whose complaints could be dismissed as those of ‘loose’ girls. One girl is all but assaulted in the open air of a hospital ward and a nurse chides her for being bratty when she runs away from Savile. Another is invited to his house with her friend, and she instantly knows something is wrong when they’re separated by Savile’s goon. How many times have we heard the line ‘it was a different time’ in relation to historic abuses and rape culture? It almost goes without saying that this is extremely tough to watch. Every time Savile approaches a young woman or girl, you shudder. His victims watch him rise to fame on TV and radio, helpless spectators to his further rise to fame. Seeing the real people in the end credits, contrasted with their childhood selves, is devastating. As tastefully handled as instances of Savile’s abuses are, there’s still this nagging voice in the back of your head that wonders why they’re even being shown. Is it to implicate us all as voyeurs in Savile’s crimes? Or to remind us what was happening beneath the cigars and tracksuits? A drama on Savile should be unflinching, but the unease remains.

Whether or not it’s ‘too soon’ for such a show to exist is one question; that the BBC has done so is the other sticking point. How much humility can you show in these circumstances when a full display of it could be incriminating? In the first episode, where BBC executives pitch a show to Savile that would eventually become Top of the Pops, the lone woman in the room notes his bad reputation and how weird she finds him, but is brushed off by her male colleagues. Every major institution failed Savile’s victims, right up to Downing Street, where his BFF Margaret Thatcher invited him to Chequers every Christmas, and Prince Charles. We see the failures of the NHS, who opened the doors at multiple hospitals to allow Savile free reign over the patients, which are emphasized far more than the BBC’s failings. This is not to say that one is lesser than the other — seriously, how the hell did this man get keys to places like Broadmoor?! — but to note where a BBC drama (although it is technically an independent production by ITV) plays a lighter hand than desired.

Everything shown here (I watched the first two episodes) is now a matter of public record. It has been dissected repeatedly in documentaries (the Netflix one and Louis Theroux’s special are of particular note.) It’s understandable why The Reckoning would not want to stray from the cold hard facts and multiple victim testimonies. Biopics aren’t exactly known for their adherence to the truth. One attempt to diverge from this and develop a possible psychological angle to Savile’s life is through his relationship with his mother, who he nicknamed the Duchess. In the first episode, we see her give confession at church and admit that she doesn’t really like her youngest child. She’s concerned that her lack of love for Jimmy might be what has made him ‘weird.’ There’s an intriguing angle here, although it veers a touch too close to blaming a woman for a serial rapist’s crimes for my liking. It may simply be that there’s no real depth to Savile’s psyche, which is terrifying in and of itself.

In The Reckoning, we hear one of Savile’s victims say that this cannot happen again, that we can never allow such abhorrent abuses to run rampant and unchecked for decades. That seems to be the crux behind making such a drama. It’s a warning signal, albeit one made with the comfort of hindsight. One could say that the timing is uncomfortable given that we’re currently dealing with the fallout of the accusations against Russell Brand, but I’m not sure there would ever be a comfortable time to release such a programme. As much as we proclaim ‘never again’, it’s tough to ignore the toxicity of the climate, as many people throw their support behind accused abusers as part of some grandstanding hard-right ‘anti-woke’ political protest. We must be reminded over and over again of the monstrous nature of abuse, and the many layers of power required to strengthen its stifling grip. Is that reason enough for The Reckoning to exist, especially when what it is documenting has been done so before, and better? I’m not so sure.

The Reckoning is now available to watch in its entirety on BBC iPlayer.