Sahara & White Teeth

This column first appeared in the Age on November 2, 2002

I first became sexually aroused by Michael Palin in Monty Python's Life of Brian, more than 20 years ago. He was hopping around, in a state of undress, furious that Jesus had cured his leprosy and therefore undermined his begging gig. Apparently the scene was a result of a bet Palin had with cast members that he could transform his body from that of a tubby Yorkshire man to that of a buffed bodybuilder. Still looking good, he is back in spiritual and desert climes, in his latest, four-part series, Sahara: A Line in the Sand that begins tomorrow night at 7.30pm on the ABC.

It is terrific television. Enough to make travel-aholic's run to their back pack and begin working out whether they can afford to get to Africa, enough to have arm chair travellers glued to their seats, enough to have us forget the general media hysteria about travelling in Islamic countries.

Beginning in Gibraltar, Michael crosses the Straits to Tangier in Morocco, and then passes through Fez and Marrakesh, cities that look like something out of Arabian Nights. At first it seems he moves too quickly through these beautiful cities, but then we see where Palin's interest lies. A substantial portion of the show is set on the borders of Algeria and Morocco at Smara, a refugee camps that houses some of the 180,000 people who fled the Western Sahara, when it was annexed by the Moroccans. For more than a quarter of a century they have been living in the fierce desert heat, drinking and bathing in water diluted with bleach that is trucked in daily. Overall Sahara is a rambling journey held together by Palin's personality: his dry wit, his big heart, and, at times, his travel-worn grumpiness.

Don't get up when the show ends because at 8.30pm a second new series begins (also on ABC) White Teeth, based on Zadie Smith's bestselling novel of the same name. The moment the titles come up you know you are in for a visual treat. I hadn't read the novel, but I watched the show with someone who had. They weren't disappointed, exclaiming, 'That's Clara', as the camera swirled to Barry White, taking us up the stairs and through the front door of Clara's (Naomi Harris) flat to find her dancing to Barry in her bedroom.

The story begins on New Year's Eve 1974 as the vaguely pathetic Archie Jones (Phil Davies) attempts to gas himself in his car. Clara, meanwhile has got tiered of spreading the word that the world will end that very night on behalf of her Jehovah Wittness mother, and is experimenting with sex, drugs, and rock and roll. The unlikely union of white, middle-aged Archie, and young, West-Indian Clara, gives this first episode it's title: 'The Peculiar Second Marriage of Archie Jones.'

Around this time Archie has been tracked down by Samad Iqbal (Om Puri - you may remember his as the father in East is East) his old buddy from the second world war. Samad invites him to his forthcoming wedding to Alsanna (Archie Panjabi) - also a woman half his age. Both young wives are soon pregnant to their older husbands and it is the chidren's stories which will take over as the four-part series goes on.

This is visually strong and playful television as well as funny, sad, well acted and addictive. And, just to prove that television can be good for you, I plan to go out right now and buy the book.

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