R.I.P Seven Days, four months and eight episodes old. The television programme wrongly billed by the press as the heir to Big Brother aired for the last time Tuesday night taking with it some of the best TV moments this year. Yes, really.
The first episode featured Malcolm, above, the dreadlocked property manager, trying to get a mortgage. So far, so what. But then as the episode rolled on he was also reveled to be the sort of person to run away for two years after the death of his cat, paint a mural for it in his basement jacuzzi and then place said cat’s dead body on a pillow in the fridge. My jaw dropped, tv-gold aghast. Yet somehow even this didn’t seem to be enough to hold my attention and after the first episode, I stopped watching.
Then late one night I caught a repeat. And then another. And then before I knew it I was subconsciously counting down the days to the next episode. The people and their minor problems became likable, their problems real, their lives truly captured on television.
Ben and his mother living together in squabble and little harmony, was something I could relate to. Laura and Sam harboring big dreams, Hannah and her dad, the airline pilot couple, and the Asian guy going to Uni who we never saw again. As their lives played out before us they backed each other through the small, and the big stuff, of life in Notting Hill.
But what sealed my love for Seven Days was the tenderness for each person. The cameras played out at a distance capturing events in these peoples lives that were, at times, raw. Witnessing the emotional collapse of the cousins and brother, Javan Stacy and Lawei, on the anniversary of their aunt/mother’s death was one of TV’s most earnest moments. As the cameras rolled we watched as they let go and clung to each other. It was unexpected, it was raw… it was essential TV viewing. And in what I had come to expect viewing Seven Days, it swung round to unintentional humor when Malcolm came over and began to weep for his own mother. This wasn’t mocking people; this was experiencing something with them.
Seven Days succeeded in capturing people as they truly are; at times total idiots but others emotional and vulnerable. There was shameless, cringing laughter, but there was also tear brimming heartache. It’s just a shame we never saw where it could lead to next.
(Source: nothingbadmag.com)
