by Hayley Charlesworth
Every so often, an episode of a TV show comes along that is so important, and so well-crafted, that it sparks a necessary dialogue and just will not stop playing on your mind. Cucumber, which has mostly been a comedy-drama, and has often paled in comparison to anthology sister show Banana, had one such episode this week, with possibly the most remarkable writing of Russell T Davies’ career. It is essential to note that this review contains major spoilers, but also discussion of events and themes that some readers may find distressing.
Every so often, an episode of a TV show comes along that is so important, and so well-crafted, that it sparks a necessary dialogue and just will not stop playing on your mind. Cucumber, which has mostly been a comedy-drama, and has often paled in comparison to anthology sister show Banana, had one such episode this week, with possibly the most remarkable writing of Russell T Davies’ career. It is essential to note that this review contains major spoilers, but also discussion of events and themes that some readers may find distressing.
The “gay bashing” or “homophobic murder” trope is overused. It appears that every show with significant LGBT protagonists includes one for the sake of drama. When you realise what is coming in Cucumber, it’s hard not to groan that this is happening again. But Cucumber is different. Through a combination of incredible performances from Cyril Nri as Lance and James Murray as Daniel, stunning, inventive direction from Alice Troughton, and a brutally honest script from Russell T Davies, this is the most effective, shocking, and terrifying use of the trope on television.
The episode opens with a title card saying “Lance Sullivan: 1968 - 2015”. We flash through his entire life, from birth and childhood, to discovering his sexuality, to family dynamics, to meeting and falling in love with Henry. The events of Lance’s story in previous episodes are recapped, before we reach the present, where Lance turns down an apologetic Henry’s declarations of love to go out with his new obsession, the increasingly unhinged Daniel.
This is where everything changes. Previously, anything could have happened to Lance, from a freak car accident to an aneurysm. It is when he meets Danny on Canal Street that you realise he will be murdered, and it is the presence of an old face that indicates this will be different. Denise Black starred as matriarch Hazel Tyler in Davies’ ground-breaking Queer as Folk, and here she returns to warn Lance to go home. It transpires that Hazel is a ghost, roaming Canal Street and protecting her boys. This is jarring at first, given Cucumber is a show grounded in reality, but on reflection, her appearance is open to interpretation, which we will get to.
The episode opens with a title card saying “Lance Sullivan: 1968 - 2015”. We flash through his entire life, from birth and childhood, to discovering his sexuality, to family dynamics, to meeting and falling in love with Henry. The events of Lance’s story in previous episodes are recapped, before we reach the present, where Lance turns down an apologetic Henry’s declarations of love to go out with his new obsession, the increasingly unhinged Daniel.
This is where everything changes. Previously, anything could have happened to Lance, from a freak car accident to an aneurysm. It is when he meets Danny on Canal Street that you realise he will be murdered, and it is the presence of an old face that indicates this will be different. Denise Black starred as matriarch Hazel Tyler in Davies’ ground-breaking Queer as Folk, and here she returns to warn Lance to go home. It transpires that Hazel is a ghost, roaming Canal Street and protecting her boys. This is jarring at first, given Cucumber is a show grounded in reality, but on reflection, her appearance is open to interpretation, which we will get to.
The final ten minutes of this episode are essential, difficult and terrifying viewing. Lance and a drunk Danny have a sexual encounter, after which Danny gets defensive, violent, and with a single swing of a golf club, cracks open Lance’s skull. We see images of Lance’s life in fragmented moments as the blood pours from his head. His father and sister stare at him in disapproval. The vision of Hazel gently telling him to go home flits between the sight of a drunk old woman screaming at him to go home as a racial slur (which indicates that Hazel’s presence was not that of a literal ghost but in fact Lance’s dying memory replacing this moment with the sight of a kind woman he saw on the edges of Canal Street). Meanwhile, the sinister Eurovision winning “La La La”, which Lance had been singing all episode, plays out, until the final image: Lance sees Henry, in a white room, just talking happily on a lazy Sunday in bed, and a solitary tear falls down his cheek before all is black. It is the single most powerful minute that has probably ever been aired on Channel 4. The editing choices make it clear that this is Lance’s life flashing before his eyes, but you could also interpret this whole episode as being the same, occurring after the moment that the golf club connects with his skull, especially given that there is not a single scene in this episode that isn’t from Lance’s perspective.
What makes this episode so affecting is the sheer honesty of it. We are shown every excruciating second of Lance and Danny’s encounter, which is sinister and horrifying rather than erotic. We see the club connect violently with Lance’s skull, and the relentless blood pour from the wound in close up. And we also recognise how universal the scene is. Lance could have been a woman, and the situation would still play out. Danny did not unleash a no-holds-barred homophobic beat-down, but rather aimed a solitary swing in drunken anger, presumably unaware of the consequences and that he would kill. This episode is so uncomfortable but necessary because it could literally happen to anyone. Russell T Davies said in the Radio Times that he wanted to write a death that felt like a death, and thanks to his incredible assembled talent, that is exactly what he achieved. No matter if you have been keeping up with Cucumber, Banana and Tofu, this episode is essential viewing.
What makes this episode so affecting is the sheer honesty of it. We are shown every excruciating second of Lance and Danny’s encounter, which is sinister and horrifying rather than erotic. We see the club connect violently with Lance’s skull, and the relentless blood pour from the wound in close up. And we also recognise how universal the scene is. Lance could have been a woman, and the situation would still play out. Danny did not unleash a no-holds-barred homophobic beat-down, but rather aimed a solitary swing in drunken anger, presumably unaware of the consequences and that he would kill. This episode is so uncomfortable but necessary because it could literally happen to anyone. Russell T Davies said in the Radio Times that he wanted to write a death that felt like a death, and thanks to his incredible assembled talent, that is exactly what he achieved. No matter if you have been keeping up with Cucumber, Banana and Tofu, this episode is essential viewing.
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