Dennis Potter's Cold Lazarus (1996)

Cold Lazarus (1996)

Dir. Renny Rye | 4 episodes, approx 50 minutes each.

The second part of the final work requires you to have seen all four episodes of the first part. I won’t drop ruinous spoilers about CL’s plot but I'll need to refer to Karaoke, so please think carefully before reading anything beyond this point if you've any interest in watching Karaoke and have yet to do so.

As we saw previously, armed with the knowledge of his failing heath, Daniel Feeld prepared for the future of the people he felt close to. In contrast, the author was unprepared for what awaited him in his own future, 374 years after his death.

The introduction of cryogenics into Karaoke’s plot may have seemed odd in isolation, but it makes sense when you consider CL. Scientists unearth the frozen remains of Daniel and plug him into a machine that translates the activity in his brain into visual images that can be recorded and analysed by a people who've lost sight of what it means to be human. Their society is in chaos and, for reasons that aren't fully explained, their historical records are inadequate. They believe that memories of a person from the past may help them better understand their present.

The fact that memory, being the subjective construct that it is, is an inherently unreliable source of information is addressed a little but not enough to build a foundation for the entire process to stand solidly on. Similar criticisms can be applied to various parts of CL's plot. At times its reach overextends the length of its component parts, and the whole suffers. When it isn't doing that, when it sticks to more relatable concerns, it explores the nature of free will and deepens our understanding of why Daniel was the person he was in Karaoke.

The scientists are an odd bunch, only a few of whom are any good at acting, but luckily it's those few that get the most screen time. They're at the mercy of a hedonistic evil bitch named Martina Masdon, played with zeal by Diane Ladd. Martina is one of the most memorable characters, and yet many of her scenes are largely superfluous. I'm unsure if that was a kind of commentary in itself, but I'm convinced that some of the subtext is purposefully imbalanced.

On the flip side, some views are so blatant that they're like a punch in the face. I can imagine the author having one final laugh as he contemplated the BBC's reaction to a story about a corporate attempt to control a dying writer's mind.