Channel 4’s Top Boy
The scenario outlined in City of God offered a possible way forward for Top Boy and Ronan Bennett is right to see it as one of his greatest works so far in what is after all a highly prolific canon. While Dushame, almost like Little Z, is determined to become top boy at all costs, embracing the values of capitalism on disadvantaged terms, like all the classic gangsters from George Raft and Jimmy Cagney through Harold Shand to the present, it was Ra Nell who provided the moral counterweight and more class-conscious perspective, a bit like Red Ray’s mother and Connie in Face. In this we are reminded that Grime music also comes from the South London estates, especially from Croydon, although it also has its gangster alter-ego in the form of Drill. Grime, in turn, is perhaps the most significant cultural expression of resistance against the injustices of neo-liberal capitalism, including racism, since boring old punks like John Lydon decided that immigration had divided Britain.
It is interesting to postulate how far Top Boy in its original low budget manifestation could have gone down this route before Channel 4 decided to axe the series during lockdown. One of the most memorable moments in this original series, for me, was when a young black boy employed as a cocaine mule delivers drugs to some yuppie who is clearly either an academic (in a corrupt and market facing University system) or works in the media. I mention this because we’ve all encountered the type before, who deals a bit of Charlie to his mates and deludes himself that his world of recreational drug taking is a lifestyle choice somehow separate from the sordid world of criminal drug trafficking, sink estate crack houses and county lines gangs. This, as Karl Marx would have said, is commodity fetishism writ large, much as the consumer of pornography is in denial as to the world of exploitation that creates it. The young boy is immediately impressed by the yuppies collection of books and asks if they are about history. The yuppie can’t get the young lad out of his house quick enough.
This reminds us, I think, that the series Guerrilla, featuring Idris Elba, and which screened on the Murdoch owned Sky of all places, actually featured members of the Black Panther Party under Darcus Howe, who had links to the Workers Revolutionary Party in Brixton in the 1970s when the series was set. It also reminds us how in both the novel and movie of Shaft, starring Robert Rowntree, and despite its misogyny and homophobia, the Black Panthers again reappear and help the black detective rescue the abducted daughter of a gang boss from his rivals in a scenario that owes something to Dashiel Hammett’s Red Harvest.
Given that Harold Shand only met his particular nemesis in the form of the IRA, this raises the question, was there always an even better series inside of Top Boy trying to get out in which revolution and resistance played a prominent role? This is particularly salient given the rise and normalisation of the new fascism at this time..
Lost in Translation? Top Boy on Netflix
Something that needs to be said here is that film and TV critics are often unaware of the difficulties that we script writers often face in trying to get our stuff made, particularly if it is of a front line or controversial character, conforming to what I call “the crime fiction of the sociological imagination.” Compromises have to be made and it is far too easy for the academic or critic who is not part of the industry, to overlook this. Perhaps that’s why nobody built a statue to a critic. When I was working on my PhD I met Troy Kennedy-Martin and was astonished that about two thirds of what he wrote never actually got made. I also know from personal experience how “risk averse” to frontline social and political issues certain companies linked to Netflix can be.
The fact remains, however, that while Canadian rapper Drake undeniably “saved Top Boy by taking it to Netflix and raising its concept (along with its budget) something was lost in the translation. For a start, no gangster of the stature to which Dushane had now risen was going to carry on living on a sink estate in Hackney and a lot of the action now transferred to the world of the super-wealthy, in Spain, much as in Brian De Palma’s re-make of Scarface with Al Pacino in the 1980s. It’s true that since Harold Shand, in 1981, and particularly since the structural changes to capitalism in the mid 1980s it is no longer enough that the screen gangster is punished by the capitalist values he – or she –embraces. They also have to be punished by the Thatcherite world they helped create and while the Devil preferred to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven you can’t really create a Thatcherite world from a Hackney council flat.
Significantly, The Guardian praised the later seasons of Top Boy for introducing themes of homophobia but, just as telling, this was framed by the glamorous world of Vogue models and, again, the super-rich. This isn’t to say that the women who inhabit this world can’t be targets for abuse, especially if they can be blackmailed over being gay. Harvey Weinstein and the “Me Too” movement bear testimony to that. But the absence of a Na Rell character, whether male or female, to provide a Greek chorus commentary or moral counterweight, robs the narrative of something. In particular, it robs it of a point of contact with the world not of class identity but class consciousness that Connie and Red Ray’s mother provided in Face.
Of course, Dushane does return to the estate, as surely as Jack Carter returned to his own “working class crap hole” in the North. Dushane even tries to project himself as a community champion, like Harold Shand, by serving as a private sector property speculator. The problem here is that it is property speculation, the property ladder and the private sector in general that has turned London into the Hell hole it certainly is – and for which immigrants are then blamed. Ergo when Dushane, as surely as Harold Shand, meets his inevitable demise, do we really see him as a tragic hero or just another sad-arsed outlaw out of time, like Dillinger, George Raft and James Cagney?
I personally think the series could have ended differently if Dushane had indeed experienced an epiphany moment and tried to use his wealth to transform both the community from which he was derived and wider society. Setting up a network of credit unions would put the loan sharks out of business thereby undermining drug revenues and recruitment to county line gangs. While it is unlikely that he’d give up on drug dealing altogether there have been examples of gang leaders e.g. in Manchester announcing a prohibition on heroin dealing and resolving to remove guns from the community, even standing as candidates for Class War Federation. If in this role Dushane had been lured to his death by trying to negotiate a ceasefire between rival criminal gangs, and with corrupt police and even SO15 in the mix then there really wouldn’t have been a dry eye in the house when his past life of violence reclaimed him as certainly as Jack Carter on Durham’s Blackhall Beach.
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