If I’d only seen the first three of the six 70 minute episodes of this landmark BBC series written by Dennis Potter I’d’ve told you it was absolutely brilliant. After seeing the whole thing, even spacing it out, I found myself a little numb by its repetitive qualities. Even though that’s kinda the point — a sharp-witted author confined to a hospital bed reworking his first book in his mind and hyperlinking to key moments in his childhood again and again. (And hallucinating a plot against him, plus singing!) There is a lot of very sharp banter here and Michael Gambon is marvelous as the central, Proustian by way Mike Leigh character. When the whole shebang ended I realized it was all back story, nothing going forward. Our hero may’ve figured out some shit from his past, but I had no idea what his real, non-hallucinated relationship was to the people around him. Some on the imdb call this the best television series ever made. That may be true — there is a marvelous polished quality, rife with symbolism. But it is still a television series — and even the best ever made (I include The Office, the earlier seasons of The Sopranos. . . maybe even The West Wing) get dull after a while.