Nudity can’t cover up laughably bad TV dramas
The first episode of the BBC’s big new historical drama,
Versailles, was quite the costumed romp, wasn’t it? It had bare breasts, elaborate shoes, gay congress, extravagant hair and… well, the rest.
Except, the rest wasn’t nearly as gripping: wooden acting, treacly script and a denouement so laughable as to be laugh-out-loudable. So why am I looking forward to the next hilariously picaresque episode about Louis XIV?
Perhaps it’s the Game of Thrones effect, inuring us to post-watershed nudity, but without wishing to summon the ghosts of Jeremy Corbyn and Diane Abbot motorcycling round East German nudist colonies, nakedness doesn’t bother me nearly as much as violence or poor grammar.
Even when I took a peek at the advert for clothing chain Jack Wills that has been banned for its “irresponsible” sexualised images, I wasn’t in the least bit shocked.
I remember heroin chic in the mid-Nineties, you see, when gaunt models were pictured semi-naked and vulnerable in public loos. By comparison, a bunch of preppy, privileged young things drinking their parents’ wine and wearing little more than overpriced underwear is no biggie.
The powers-that-be disagree, however, and have deemed the glossy images of an all-night knicker party inappropriate because the target audience is both underage and impressionable.
This is both true and not true. True, because under-16s are surprisingly keen consumers of fancy-schmancy pants.
And not true, because Jack Wills is over. It’s so over that the Islington branch is now a sofa shop.
No amount of glossy commercials featuring flesh can change that; its rivals, Hollister and Abercrombie & Fitch, have already sensed the tide is turning. They have jettisoned halfnaked male models in their stores, which are undergoing a makeover by turning up the lights and turning down the music.
And American Apparel – the ultimate purveyor of seedy, sleazy adverts featuring young-looking models in undress – is embroiled in bankruptcy proceedings.
High-camp Victoria’s Secret, meanwhile, is the must-wear for teenage sleepovers. Not the lacy stuff, just the racy stuff. The brand’s utility athletic range, Pink, has proved to be a winner.
It would be nice, if unrealistic, to imagine that sex no longer sells. It does – but these days it is better deployed to pimp dubious drama rather than luxe lingerie.