At 58,Coogan is obviously too old to play the Savile we first meet as a 20-something DJ and nightclub promoter whose pattern of criminal sexual behaviour is already set. A series of wigs – you’d describe them as bad had Savile’s own thatch not been so ridiculous – and make-up more or less gets Coogan over the hump as the decades progress. But really,it’s Coogan’s performance that carries it,and props to him,as few actors would even consider a role like this,let alone see it through with such a relentless lack of redeeming qualities.
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His Savile is wracked not so much by guilt over his actions as curiosity and,in the end,fear:will anyone notice his behaviour,or call it out if they do? Will his Roman Catholic god cast him into eternal damnation or fulfil the promise of forgiveness and salvation? Will his reputation as a benign uncle to the poor and needy survive,and be enough to shield him from innuendo and investigation,to the end?
It’s as if Savile’s life was one long act of brinkmanship,with a mounting pile of victims providing the ever-taller precipice on which he dared himself to balance. There’s no plea for sympathy here,at least not for the devil. Savile is beyond the pale,beyond forgiveness,ultimately beyond any sort of humanity with which we might wish to identify. He is a creep,an abuser,a heartless hustler for whom good works were merely a passage to bad deeds.
As the title of the book on which the series is based makes clear,Savile flourishedIn Plain Sight. We can only hope that changing times,a growing willingness to give an ear to the words of victims,and exposés like this (admittedly belated) drama mean his like might never do so again.