Telly Talk: Teenage kicks

BBC3 has been a bit of an easy target with its programming tastes. Epitomised by the publicly lauded and critically derided Two Pints Of Lager And A Packet Of Crisp, along with Snog Marry Avoid, it’s aimed itself squarely at the ‘yoof’ market Janet Street-Porter all those years ago recognised as not being recognised. These days they could hardly be described as ‘unrepresented’, and a lot of the time the criticism of pandering to the lowest common denominator has been not always unfairly levelled at them, which is why Don’t Call Me Crazy touched such a nerve.

A three-part series filmed over a year at the McGuiness Unit in Manchester – an intake facility that takes in the suicidal and disturbed aged between 13 and 17 years old – Don’t Call Me Crazy offers unprecedented access to both staff and patients, and a terrifying task for its editor. Such a responsibility to these people to tell their stories without sensation, scandal or judgement. In all honesty, I was worried for the BBC from the moment the cameras started to roll and the first child-adult swung into view smiling disarmingly at the lens as they joined the facility. But then, this is not easy viewing. And that’s exactly right.

“A pair of bright pink yet laceless Converse, speak volumes with their empty holes”

From 17-year-old Beth’s steely determination not to eat – if possible, ever again – to Gill’s wildly fluctuating moods that see her yo-yo in and out of the acute corridor and her fresh raw self-inflicted wounds across her forearm, these are deeply vulnerable and yet breath-takingly strong people. Witnessing OCD-suffering Emma’s near despair as it is her turn to have her room searched, not through fear at what the staff will find but at the task ahead she has set for herself to put the room back exactly as she had it before, cuts straight to the core. As do a pair of bright pink yet laceless Converse, speaking volumes with their empty holes.

It’s not all bleak and hopeless, I wouldn’t want you to think that. Along with the depths that have brought these poor teenagers in is also the warm glow with each victory, gently spreading across your whole chest in a positive embrace. A home visit, even a final release, or a transfer out of the acute corridor all place a firm re-assuring hand on your knee to say it can all be alright. In a bit. For a bit.

What’s good is that the staff are all striving not for a cure but to teach and find coping mechanisms that will help with long term survival in the outside world, where everyone wants to be able to function. And, to me, that’s an extra great sly aspect of helping those who may be on their way to a unit just like this. With an estimated half a million young people in Britain having to deal with mental illness, and this is their channel after all, explaining what they might be going through – or a friend is experienceing – without preaching has got to be invaluable. For all the parents that feel helpless as they see their child windmilling in hormones, again – this is a bit of a light in that tunnel of adolescence. And as one who really doesn’t know that many experiencing that age in life, it was good to have the reminder of just how adult they really are, listening in to a remarkably calm and enlightening discussion on the very nature of their illnesses.

I don’t know if I would say that I was looking forward to the next episode of Don’t Call Me Crazy, but I’m so glad that BBC3 has made it. I will watch it if I can. And cross my fingers that Beth will eat.
Don’t Call Me Crazy, BBC3, Monday 24 June