Steptoe and Son by Ray Galton and Alan Simpson, produced by Owen Bell, BBC Four, 14 September 2016

Filmed once more in front of a live audience, this remake of an episode originally broadcast in 1970 told a familiar tale of Harold (Ed Coleman) trying to escape from urban squalor in Shepherd's Bush yet being frustrated by his scheming father (Jeff Rawle).

Wisely the two actors did not attempt to recreate the vocal and gestural nuances of Corbett and Brambell, but instead provided impersonations - the kind of approach where we could laugh with them, but at the same time realizing that the modern actors were very different. On the other hand we could revel in the sheer brilliance of the Galton and Simpson script - in case we did not already know it, Harold Steptoe is another version of Hancock, the man perpetually looking for something better yet unable to find it. Both men were equipped with the ability to vocalize their frustrations in sentences that were at once funny yet exceptionally sad. Try as they might, they would never escape. Albert Steptoe, for all his tendency to act pathetic, was actually a strong and manipulative personality, keeping his unfortunate son under a tight leash and thereby restricting Harold's prospects.

Producer Owen Bell was highly successful at communicating this relationship to viewers through a camera-style based on the close-up and the two-shot. This was perhaps the biggest advantage of the studio-based sitcom - it might have been visually stereotyped, but it gave an insight into what the characters thought and felt.

Poldark by Winston Graham, adapted by Debbie Horsfield, directed by Edward Bazalgette et. al. BBC One, Aug-Oct 2016

What can one say about Debbie Horsfield's rendering of Winston Graham's evergreen series of classics that has not been said before? Being old enough to remember the 1975 version when Robin Ellis strode through the West Country with his scanty undershirt revealing a hairy chest and equally distinguished sideburns, I was impressed with Aidan Turner's recreation of the same role. Turner has a wonderful gift for smoldering; his features do not change much, but his eyes flash and his lips purse in a way that brooks no resistance from anyone. George Warleggan (Jack Farthing) is an eminently hissable villain, his pasty face and arrogant mien contrasting with Robin Poldark's humanity. The facial and bodily contrasts between the two resembles that of any great melodrama. We know George will get his comeuppance in the end, but we marvel at the extent to which he is prepared to manipulate others in order to achieve his aims.

Filmed on the rolling Cornish coast, POLDARK knows how to make the best use of its locations, filming its protagonists against the setting sun or having them walk alone among deserted beaches or wading into the sea. There are also plenty of opportunities for Ross to be shown either shirtless or sweat-soaked down the mine, moving in close proximity to his fellow-workers in lurid orange light. We can understand from their expressions how committed they are to their futures, despite George's best efforts to impede them.

In truth the structure of each episode is a tad repetitive, with Ross and his wife (Eleanor Tomlinson) having to overcome a series of struggles both mental as well as professional: negotiating obstacles like Scylla and Charybdis so that they can arrive at a happy end. But the production, directed by a variety of artists, is constructed with such élan, with plenty of swash, buckle and romance that we are scarcely aware of its schematics. The BBC used to distinguish itself with these kind of dramas of a Sunday night - there was HOWARDS WAY set in the contemporary era that enjoyed a long run. How pleasant to see the new POLDARK perpetuating that tradition.

Victoria by Daisy Goodwin, directed by Oliver Blackborn et. al., Mammoth Productions for ITV, 28 Aug. - 16 Oct. 2016

On the basis of seeing the first episodes of this Masterpiece drama, broadcast in the UK by ITV, I can freely say that I am hooked on to it. Daisy Goodwin's script is both taut and cleverly written, while the performances of the main protagonists are uniformly convincing. I particularly like Jenna Coleman's characterization of the young Queen - so apparently vulnerable yet possessed with an inner strength of will that enables her to resist the repeated blandishments of her self-interest mother the Duchess of Kent (Catherine H. Flemming), who so dearly desires to assume the title of Regent, aided and abetted by her unscrupulous ally Sir John Conroy (Paul Rhys).

This eight-part drama wears its moral scheme on its sleeve by contrasting the hissable villain the Duke of Cumberland (Peter Firth), with the pragmatic yet goodhearted Lord Melbourne (Rufus Sewell), who admires the Queen yet remains convinced that she has to transform herself from an immature girl into suitably monarchical material, and will try his utmost to achieve that transformation. Sometimes he has to be cruel to be kind, but all in a good cause. In between these two extremes stands the Duke of Wellington (Peter Bowles), and Sir Robert Peel (Nigel Lindsay), both members of the Tory Party (and hence implacably opposed to Melbourne's politics), but interested in maintaining the business of government.

As with most television costume dramas, the sets and decor are both opulent and historically accurate, supplemented by useful CGI shots where necessary. I especially liked some of the cinematographic effects (by John Lee) - especially the use of aerial shots to suggest the insignificance of humanity when compared to the greater business of running the country.

And it is this sense of contemporaneity that lifts VICTORIA out of the run-of-the-mill and transforms it into living, breathing drama. We hear a lot about the importance of "duty" - from the Queen as well as her friends and enemies - and we are led to speculate on what that term really signifies. Is it just a catch-all description masking self-interest, or do people really believe in it? In light of recent political upheavals in the United Kingdom, with one Prime Minister resigning (ostensibly out of "duty"), and the opposition party tearing itself asunder with different conceptions of the same term, we wonder just how much VICTORIA is commenting on the present as well as the past, especially in its concern with politics and its relationship to the country's future.

National Treasure by Jack Thorne, directed by Marc Munden, Channel Four, 20 Sep - 11 Oct. 2016

Newspaper reviewers have predictably commented on the parallels between Jack Thorne's drama and the so-called "Operation Yewtree," in which major celebrities - the "national treasures" suggested by the title - were found to be serial abusers, or used their fame to exploit the vulnerable. The two central performances of Robbie Coltrane as Paul Finchley and Julie Walters as his wife have also received due recognition.

Yet Marc Munden's drama contains so many other brilliant aspects, that don't necessarily focus on the more salacious material but try to explore how and why Fınchley should behave as he did. What we understand from the celebrity and his wife is how narcissistic they are; despite their frequent protestations of love for one another, as well as for their daughter Dee (Andrea Riseborough), they are pathologically incapable of listening. Riseborough's characterization is profound; she does not speak much, but she has a way of looking at the ground, almost as if she cannot face the ordeal of communication, especially with her parents. There is one sequence in particular involving Marie and Dee that sums up the emotional disconnect between them; taking place in a bedroom during Dee's birthday party, Marie emphasizes quite vehemently that she wants her daughter to get better, without understanding in the least how she and her husband are the root cause of Dee's problems.

Munden's production is distinguished by memorable cinematography from Ole Bratt Birkeland. Birkeland is fond of long tracking shots, with the camera moving down lengthy corridors to discover the characters. As viewers, we feel we are eavesdropping on their private secrets - just like Peter and Marie, as they seek to find out what's "wrong" with Dee. Birkeland also uses lighting to reinforce the theme: during the birthday party Peter gives one of his windy speeches. As he does so, the camera tracks slowly to the left, revealing candles at the front of the frame, and after a few seconds settles on Dee, looking once again at the ground in embarrassment, her face obscured by yet more candled. Material things seem to matter more to Finchley - they can be easily controlled, and do not require him to empathize. The fact that Dee appears at the end of the shot emphasizes her insignificance.

Much of the action unfolds in a dream-like world of psychedelic greens, reds, and blues, drawing attention once more to the fantasy-world that Peter and Marie inhabit. Alternatively several sequences take place in darkened rooms, illumined by miserable spotlights; the perfect ambiance for anyone to behave inappropriately without fear of discovery.

Despite its pertinent subject-matter, NATIONAL TREASURE is not really about the abusive celebrity, but looks instead at the destructive ways in which parents - especially those who profess a blameless way of life - destroy their siblings, as well as others, through neglect, or by assuming that people will behave in certain preordained ways. The action unfolds slowly in a series of lengthy exchanges punctuated by occasional musical interludes (by Christobal Tapis de Veer, but remains compelling. This is one of the best dramas I have seen on any medium in the entire year.