Pyrrhic Defeats and Pyrrhic Victories

Time Commanders is coming back.

Sata's pet theory that the demise of Top Gear might be the best thing that's ever happened for television continues to be proven correct. This week Robot Wars returned to fill in the Sunday night slot, and we also know a second series of it-grew-on-us-ok Sata favourite Ultimate Hell Fortnight is in the pipeline.

And now this! The Weaver, an author doing the same thing as us, only better and more frequently, brought our attention to the revival (inappropriately advertised as a "new series") of Time Commanders. The reader will, of course, remember Time Commanders from its much-loved original 2 series in 2003 and 2005. If not, most of the shows are available to seek out online.

The premise was pretty simple, Glen Hugill Eddie Mair (or later, an annoyingly childish incarnation of Richard Hammond) would grumpily insist that a team of four players played a game of Rome: Total War (which had been modified 'a bit' but in no noticeable way), against an unseen team who were never mentioned. The challenge was either to maintain or overwrite history, and bring glory to the players' nominated side.

Oh, well, nearly. We say a team of four played Rome : Total War, in fact the team of four had two players each controlling one half of the nominated army (in the game sense there were two allied and visually identical players being controlled by the team).

Oh, except having in players who knew RTW would be boring, and teaching the team RTW's controls on the day would probably lead to a lot of (equally boring) "what does this button do / how do I charge/fight/run?" moments, for a UI is a subtle thing, so the team of four controlled two technicians who controlled two virtual sides who together constituted the teams forces.

Oh, except how do four people give orders to two people? Well, two of the team are nominated 'Lieutenants' (later captains), and each work with one technician. They have more information, more control, and more focus on what's going on.  The remaining two were 'Generals', which is a higher rank than lieutenant, and were in theory responsible for the 'broad strokes' of the battle, grand strategies and key choices.

If this system seems like a bad way to play RTW to you, then you're missing the point. Whilst one twitchy RTS veteran hunched intensely over a computer would probably give the Romans (for it is always them) a better chance of overcoming the Goths (or whoever) at this week's fixture, it would also give a spectacularly boring programme.

Imagine, if you will, four people all trying to drive a dual-control car. By having the team's tasks distributed; having the grand planners and the watchers separated from the directors, and having each half of the force controlled separately anyway, the process of play becomes vocal and complicated. Not only does each team member need to communicate their thoughts, but they often need to justify them and add detail.

Backseat Drivers.

Communication was a big part of the challenge of Time Commanders, and one completely orthogonal to the dry strategy the computergame provided. But communication (in contrast to the computergame) is something very easy for the audience to follow. In the Battle of Cynocephalae, the first story is the story of one man trying to do everything and shouting quite frequently, while the three women around him slowly (and rather independently) learn how to operate. This story requires almost no telling, and we're reminded of our comments from the Hunted review about using television as primary and secondary evidence of the things that have happened.

But, and perhaps by accident, in their mission to make a computer game into dynamic and compelling television, the designers of Time Commanders also made a game that was conceptually extremely appropriate. What do we mean by this? Well, controlling an army is extremely difficult.

When a player sits down to play an RTS, they have a near perfect-control setup. They can see everything their own forces can see (sometimes more) reliably, instantly, and in detail. They can issue orders and have those orders immediately implemented. They have a lexicon of statistics, they can know the exact numbers left in the battle, the exact power and health of each unit at all times.

Time Commanders removed all of these control advantages: a view of anything more than a small area had to be recreated using blocks on the map by the generals (later, could be requested using a third technician), orders had to pass from general to lieutenant to technician to machine, and information about the mathematical nature of the computer game was kept deeply hidden, with all clues and prompting to the players presented through the lens of the historical story. 

The series 2 set had a lot more red.

And my goodness, how excellently all these debuffs made Time Commanders capture the feeling of the chaos of battlefield tactics. Hence, Time Commanders was itself a great computer game, (despite never letting its players touch a computer) much greater than RTW and perhaps the best historical RTS ever created.

And it was played only 24 times. Crazy, huh?

(A fair disclaimer: this author has never actually been involved in a ancient or medieval battle, and is mainly basing opinion on their memory of films like 300).

In order that the audience could make sense of what was going on, our experience frequently cut away to commentary from a pair of experts, one of whom was always the phenomenal Dr Nusbacher. To return to our example of Cynocephalae, the second story of that episode is the story of an Army being mislead in the early stages, but through a series of lucky key moments coming to dominate a battle - this story is only made available to the audience by the experts telling, it's secondary evidence. Pleasingly, though, it's secondary evidence which has been so excellently evidenced with clips from the team and the simulation that we don't ever feel spoon-fed. 

The experts made an incredible contribution to the show, from intimidating the team during the opening with their slightly shouty explanation of the scenario right through to the all-becoming-clear postmortem carried out with blocks on the battlemap. They had more work to do when the teams (and plenty did) gelled smoothly and communicated well, but chose the wrong tactic; sending cavalry in against spearmen or whatever, because this wouldn't have been particularly compelling television, but for some reason (perhaps the American's passionate wailing as, indeed, horses are impaled on spears) on Time Commanders it was.

"You've been rubbish and you got everyone killed"

The main playing of the game took up about 50% of the programme, which the other half containing chatter, history, and a sort of warm-up "Skirmish", as well as the always-gleeful expert debrief. Over the different series the exact content here was refined, although we think the skirmish felt a little bit long for what it was.

There were, we hardly feel we need to mention, no prizes on Time Commanders. There was no banker-style character for everyone to root against. The experts were presented as stern critics, but completely fair, completely lovely, and completely game for the show's surreality. And everyone got on. Relationships were never frayed, social dynamics were never challenged, and everything was done with a smile.

Time Commanders is a show we remember extremely fondly, but perhaps with a little of the rose-tinting of nostalgia. We actually thought it was Nintendo Hard, but on checking the win rate was only just below 50%. While revisiting the programme for this review, we noticed little niggles which we hadn't spotted before; heavy editing to emphasise a clear (enough), making-the-history-relevant narrative was felt in a few places, the lieutenants' stories are emphasised much less than the generals', and the first half of the show lacked the energy of the second half.

We're intrigued by the potential of a 2016 version of TC. Apparently episodes will now feature 2 teams of 3 people, competing head-to-screen-to-head. We like the idea of TC as a competition, we think it could inject more energy into the pre-battle scenes, and put more pressure on the participants. We are unsure about the teams reducing to three - we imagine this will mean only one general: more cohesion, less discussion.

We noticed on review how much the aesthetics and sound of original Time Commanders was influenced by Gladiator - we tried to think of a 2010s equivalent of the massively iconic and popular 2000 film, and our best guess was HBO's Game of Thrones. Fort Boyard has already gone that way.

We're also interested to see what 10 years of computer progress will do to the battle simulations; whether more time periods and parts of the world will be represented, whether elements like artillery and ships could be included in the game. We're also excited to see if the experts will return, what sort of shape their role will take in a competition format.

The overwhelming emotion we drew from revisiting Time Commanders was joy. The teams are always excited and enthusiastic, the experts are excited for the game and pleased to be able to teach us about history on the side, the host is (over)excited by the energy of the situation. Time Commanders was a great, fun programme that dared to be clever, and we can't wait for it to return.

Hunted has been recomissioned

Oh yes.

We don't need to remind you, dear audience, that Sata strongly endorses Channel 4's recent docugame Hunted. 

The only new news we have about series 2 is that there is a £100k prize fund to be divided between any winners. We have to say, this news surprises us - we wonder whether the show will be taking a more gamey tone, we wonder whether the prize will be emphasised as part of the programme, and we wonder whether that will actually improve the programme.

We certainly think Hunted As A Game has more longevity than Hunted As A Statement About Modern Britain, and probably more international appeal. We fear Hunted might go the way of the Million Pound Drop, and gradually decline in interestingness and depth as it grows in popularity. 

Regardless, we are very, very pleased to know more Hunted is on the way in 2016. And we shudder at the thought of how much more pressure the fugitives will be under with thousands of pounds on the line.

We never got a chance to use this picture in the review.

"This is fucking marvellous"

Not our words, but his:

It was good though.

Ok, it is unusual for us to break the fourth wall in the first proper paragraph, dear audience, but before we can talk about Hunted we need to talk about this author, and this blog's aims and objectives.

Primarily, I write about things which I find interesting. Generally, that means not terrible things, because they don't interest me enough for opinions to form, and not perfect things, because I would have little to say about something that was unilaterally perfect.

Sata views the interesting middle, then. We also find that level of programme to be the easiest to write about thoughtfully: not too good as to be distracting, not too poor as to be annoying. Hunted breaks this rule because this author, really, really enjoys Hunted. Normally, this would make us reluctant to write: we might gush, we might pull punches, we might overuse the word 'excellent'. Excellent. We hope to avoid doing these things, but also, now that we've made a big deal out of it, we are basically allowed to. Excellent. And now, in the words of Paxman: Let's get on with it.

Taken as a whole, Series 1 of Hunted was an excellent programme. It was exiting and interesting to watch. It was a sound, well-thought out game, but, we think some mistakes were made in the edit. We noticed that it didn't rate too well, and (although the life and death of a show is rarely something we actively care about) wonder about whether it could be refined well enough to return.

Most impressively, though, Hunted was a fantastic experiment. It was an experiment internally: an exercise in surveillance which could never have been created outside of television, and it was an experiment in merging the different styles of television: the reality-gameshow and the documentary, made with incredible care, flavoured to feel like (and advertised as) a 'real-life drama' and thrown into a prime-time slot on channel 4.

Earlier this year, we criticised another quaternary channel for failing to repay its debt to the genre of games. There is no time to thoughtfully assess whether the same comment might apply with Channel 4, but our gut feeling is that it does not, and Hunted is a strong example of why.

The game will not take long to describe. 14 players: 6 pairs and 2 individuals, are told to go on the run. It seems they are aware that they either will or might appear on Channel 4's Hunted, but not when the call is coming: on the morning that their cameraperson arrives, they are thrown into the game immediately. 

The Fugitives...

They must hurry, too, because at the same time, the hunters are set off. Operating from an underground bunker (we embellish) in London, the hunters are a team of 30 - a few field agents, but many more commanders than infantry. The hunters are given basic information on the fugitives: name, address, and photo - any more information is theirs to seek out.

...and The Hunters

But seek it they will, as the hunters use a variety of methods to track the fugitives, themed around the show's documentary side, the methods are introduced by talking about how they might be used by the police or secret services ('the state') in real life. The methods in question are a mix of technological, direct surveillance, and psychological. The direct methods are the most often used - the hunters can request any* CCTV footage, or ANPR (Automatic Number Plate Recognition) data, but the technological and psychological are also surprisingly powerful. To go into detail on how would be to replicate the programme; we won't.

(*Fantastically, Channel 4 released their own, slightly opaquely-worded explanation to how this was done.)

This is half of the game, and about 50% of what we see on screen each episode. The other side of Hunted is the fugitives' stories. The fugitives have a reasonable idea of how they might be hunted and this places natural constraints on them: all travel tens of miles from their ordinary home, most hundreds. Travelling undetected is difficult, as is living undetected: the fugitives can withdraw money from a provided bank account, but this will certainly alert the hunting team.

        

Adversity breeds creative solutions, though, and we'll talk more below about some examples of the general inventive, determined, positive and likeable approach the fugitives took to the programme. Overall, we would describe the Game here, as a magnificent asymmetric battle, both of wits and of determination. 

We think Hunted made a lot of small but important choices well. Fugitives had limited funds, and there was a safety cost to obtaining more money. Using public transport was made risky by the CCTV replication. The 'hot start' made the beginnings more interesting than they would else have been, it made the contestants less able to make elegant plans. Footage of scenery, music, and accounts were all used well to make sequences emotive. There were moments of quiet as well as of noise: the fact that fugitives' communications were so restricted made loneliness and trust key themes of the game. Our favourite quote comes again from Dr Allen:

We agree up to a point.

One question lies at the heart of every episode of Hunted: What's going to happen? The game here is presented as an "experiment about modern Britain", but it primarily functions as a story generator. We think Hunted's core merit is its quality as a process to make exciting things happen. It makes sense, then, for us to talk about some specific stories from the first series, even though in some sense this is a narrow assessment of Hunted: we only have a single sample from the mechanism to consider. 

                               

One high point, possibly the best of the series, came in the second half of episode 2. (If you haven't seen any of the show, jump in around 35 minutes before reading on. Go on. Go on.) 

A spot of bothy.

Ricky Allen, a fugitive with a sense of fun, sets a 'trap' to turn the tables and spy on the hunters, by drawing them to a remote building while observing them hidden in a forest shortly away. The audience see a little of Ricky's preparations, but mainly follow the hunters as they approach the cabin - then cut over to Ricky as he sits in the bushes, asking his Cameraman to be quieter, gazing out over the hunter team and declaring the scene fucking marvellous.

The sequence is excellently presented, but mainly it's just an excellent event. How do you produce great television moments like this? Take experiments, design the game well, cast interesting people, and make the story as organic as possible. Hunted did extremely well in all 4 of these criteria.

We'll also mention the standoff and chase at the end of episode 5. All the same praise applies to this sequence, and some extra. The first is that episode 5's final quarter was exceptionally well foreshadowed. The lead in built us a sound connection with the fugitives, and twisted beautifully. When we thought things were good they went bad. When we thought things were awful they came through. Good and bad and good and bad again, through a combination of great gameplay and great editing, watching Adam and Emma was a nonstop rollercoaster ride. 

Our favourite newlyweds.

The very best thing about this ending, though, was the ingenious decision to have 2 of the 'office' team go out to perform the capture. This was unprecedented, and suddenly turned the tables on the audience's emotions. Who were we to root for now? The heroic runners were no longer being chased by big-chinned, broad-shouldered goons, but instead by our friends from the office, who we had seen working tirelessly to track them down. This sense was compounded by the shot as we rode in the car with the 2 hunters, as they anxiously twitched on their way to the location. 

Foreshadowing

By luck or design, this was the best capture sequence of the series, with one of the fugitives making an impressive and (according to twitter) very long run around the area, and one of the Hunters impressively tailing them. As runner finally nabbed runner, we felt less sad than we might have, thanks to the impressive presentation, and we were genuinely impressed by the quality of the quarter-hour we had just seen. 

There are no decent stills of this chase sequence, because it was genuinely spontaneous.

Our only niggle here is the series' ending. We acknowledge that the series needed an end point, something more interesting than watching a clock run to zero while hunters look on gloomily. We think the decision to make the ending effectively all-or-nothing, with the Hunters incredibly likely to capture all fugitives or none, was poor. If all had been captured, we think the audience would have called this unfun and unfair. As it was, all escaped, and there was no real chance that we could get a close finish, which is a shame. 

They did have a clock anyway, though.

We aren't convinced the ending was organic, aren't convinced by a lot of the themeatic arguments around it, and aren't convinced that the Hunters couldn't have reached the airport in time, although we certainly think Hunted is the better for it. We understand that this was difficult to design, and don't really see another option, other than to suggest more than one exit point. We also appreciate the clever decision not to make the escape an emphasised part of the series as a whole, so, will return the favour and not make it an emphasised part of this review.

As a series of events, as a game, we think Hunted was nearly flawless, however, we've yet to talk really about Hunted as a Television Programme. This is again difficult, because while so much on the TV side was done well, the errors stick out to us abruptly.

Tonally, the series was excellent. Our fugitives were introduced to us: not as heroes, nor reality stars, nor people particularly sure in their own suitability, but as keen amateurs. See for example the typical promo shot that was released before the broadcast. Our love for them - and I challenge the audience not to fall in love with Ricky Allen - was left to develop organically.

Indeed, there was a real lack of force - a few times we saw the fugitives refer to the Hunters as 'evil bastards' (which we hope they took as a compliment) - but the audience were impressively left alone. We think there was a narrator, but they always said things like "Emily is in a car", not "Emily is in trouble". The edit took no side, decisions by Hunters and Fugitives were never critiqued by the programme, and the isolated nature of the game meant there was little internal criticism. The Hunters provided occasional comments, but these were vague and rarely fully informed. Hunted presented itself as primary evidence: a record of occurrences that the viewers were invited to build opinions from, rather than a designated narrative illustrated by the events.

This comes at a small cost - not being told what to think means the audience have to work more, and especially makes the early episodes feel like tough watches - BUT it adds so much to the potential value of the series. Viewers who tune in each week feel like experts in the game, they start to engage more deeply, eventually, they start to fill in the gaps themselves.

It's important to emphasise that this is a really rare and brilliant thing for television to be doing in 2015.

This is a really rare and brilliant thing for television to be doing in 2015.

We have complaints though, mostly about the timing. The series was filmed so that all the stories could exist independently, and then decisions were made afterwards as to how they would fit into episodes, and how much of each episode would follow each story.

In general, we often felt the wrong points of the story had been emphasised, while better parts suppressed or rushed-through.  Many commented that the first episode emphasised the Hunters' story too much over the contestants, and unfolded too slowly. We don't think this was true of the series in total, but certainly think that the opening could have been weighted to be a bit more newbie-friendly. Indeed, we think the opening broadcast was generally a little weak, and probably the worst of the lot.

We criticise the decision to spend most of the first episode on stories that weren't resolved in that episode. Episodes 2, 4 and 5 focused mainly (not entirely) on a single open-and-shut story, and we really feel Hunted would have done better to open on such an episode. Instead, we got too much of Lauren and Emily (who we see plenty more of), a large amount of Ricky (who could have been held back), and a weird, 5-minute departure mid-episode to capture Elizabeth and Sandra. Elizabeth and Sandra weren't the most interesting capture, but they were the most interesting thing in episode 1 - and they weren't even put at the end.

They only lasted 26 minutes.

The strange rhythm of e1, throwing it's best story into the middle, setting up too much, and ending on a weak anticlimax, left the audience - even this author - feeling a bit iffy after the first broadcast. We also really think a better story like that of the Singh Brothers could have been used instead. Indeed, it was only the excellent developments of episode 2 that really confirmed that the series was capable of all we'd hoped, and we worry that those who didn't stick around never saw Hunted for what it could be. As evidence for this point, we'll mention that of this author's IRL friends, those who fell into an episode mid-series all stuck around for the duration, whereas not all those who ran from the start did the same.

There are similar criticisms which we'll list quickly. Episode 2 had enough without the bothy trap. The demise of Ricky Allen was a massive emotional low point, and could have been pushed back so that we had a new hope to root for at the time. The ends of episode 3 and 4 felt too similar, with solo fugitives being pinned down at stations. Presenting Freddie and Jacqui's story 3 episodes after Davinder and Harinder was wrong and confusing. Adam and Emma were too interesting to be given just one episode, and their episode, 5, took an unfairly large share of the series' great moments.  

We want to emphasise, again, that we think Hunted was excellent, exciting, brilliantly-made television. It was not perfect, but the problems that existed were missed details, not fundamental flaws. It was unique, it was original, and it was brave. We understand Hunted may be made soon in the US, and we strongly wish to see more of it back in the UK. Failing that, though, we hope it will be remembered as an intelligent and influential programme.

"These are all really fit people"

Forgive us, audience, for indulging in our own musings. (Although, really, what else are you here for?) This time on Sata, we will invent a term for a new genre of television.

The word docu-game first arrived in this reviewer's head courtesy of Special Forces: Ultimate Hell Week (from here on, just 'Special Forces', and a glare to whichever exec thought the audience would be more confused by a title that doesn't entirely define its programme than a week which has 12 days). After 1 episode, our friend Nick said "I haven’t yet worked out if this is meant to be a competition or not" and it isn't difficult to see why.

We have more to say about the notion of a docugame, but that waits for another day, because we have plenty to say about Special Forces.

(Fortnight)

 

Each week of Special Forces sees the remaining participants tested by a new instructor, who represents a different nation, that nation's most elite military branch, and that military branch's unique style of training. For 48 hours the participants are required to complete a series of tasks set by the instructor. There is no particular similarity in what might be required, except for a constant high level of physical endurance. The instructor may set discrete tasks with a gap between, a long task made up of many different steps, or a continuous regime of barely-halting activity, all 3 have been done.

Participants (the programme's noun of choice is "recruits") are eliminated if they choose to leave the process. They are eliminated if they are hospitalised so badly that they cannot return within a reasonable time. They are eliminated if the instructor that week chooses to eliminate them: this can happen during the tasks or at the final 'parade' which concludes each episode.

There are some question marks over exactly what means elimination. We've seen participants be temporarily hospitalised and miss tasks, but return. We've seen participants be removed from a task by the medical staff, but return. However, we've also seen the opposite happen in each of these cases. We've seen failure to complete an instruction be given as a reason for instant elimination, but we've also seen it tolerated at other times.

It seems clear, though, that the show has started with no exact quota for how many eliminations should occur in each episode - participants are removed when they've say had enough, or when it becomes clear that they have anyway. Rarely (although once) does a specific error lead to elimination. Rarely (although sometimes) are keen and capable participants sent home against their will.

(Amendment: in episode 5, it was mentioned, a lot, that only 6 participants were allowed to continue to the final . We imagine this was for logistical reasons, rather than television, because it didn't fit well with the general open-ended feel of the series to date. We would really have liked this not to have been announced, and the limit to have been reached naturally, but we think the show would have struggled to make the necessary eliminations seem plausible. Failing that, we would like it to have been mentioned less often: it got grating, and doesn't feel like good television to know that some of these impressive and enthusiastic participants are to be sent home.)

The Americans: Pointy and Shouty.

Episode 1 has been the stand-out episode of the series so far, entirely because of the American instructors who appeared in it. The tasks set by this pair were tough, near-continuous, and visually remarkable. They created a sense of awe in their nature: doing 100 press-ups is quite difficult. Doing 200 is probably more difficult, but this author has no idea how it would compare to doing 100 in the breaking waves of the cold, Welsh, sea. Regardless, the "sea-torture" is something no member of the audience couldn't be mildly horrified by. Vox-pops of the participants saying how horribly cold the water is are used, but completely unnecessary: the audience have already seen them shivering as they raise and lower themselves into the water, over and over again.

This looked really horrible.

This is a key point, and the one on which every episode of Special Forces has done well or badly. There are plenty of difficult tasks in every episode, but the good ones are the ones that *look* *very* difficult. When it comes to physical tasks, to look difficult is not the same as to be difficult: for the group to do hundreds of burpees is probably difficult, but to do 100 for each pebble in a bucket of pebbles looks horrendously impossible. A run across any distance of flat ground is looks less difficult than a run up a sand dune which we can see the participants slip down with every step.

An ACME heavy box.

Rarely does Special Forces forget to make the task in some way visually impressive, but sometimes the job is half-baked. Stretchers, sandbag, rifles and logs are often to be carried as part of a challenge. These things are always heavy, and a voiceover will often tell us how heavy exactly, as well as clips of the participants remarking that they are heavy. They don't always look heavy, though: the Special Forces Logs^TM are the canonical example of this.

 

Our personal best moment in television terms came about 20 minutes into episode 1 (unfortunately not on iPlayer at time of publishing), when the US Marine commanders spoke to 3 recruits who had been pulled into a warming tent for possible hypothermia. The instructors gave them an ultimatum: return to the cold training, or be eliminated. This didn't seem too unreasonable, except for the speech of encouragement ("Fear is a choice") that accompanied it: the participants were strongly pressured to continue - with the instructors showing no concern for the possible harm this could cause them - and reducing their capacity to make an informed and reasonable impression.

In an environment where there wasn't a massive medical team observing for safety, this would be unacceptable. Even with these provisions, it made for dark and uncomfortable viewing. Indeed, it gave the impression of a game that maybe wasn't quite sure how far it was allowed to go- a game that was pushing the edges of what a producer would sign-off, in search of a simulation of a genuinely harrowing and unsettling process.

We claim this was Special Forces at its best: straddling the line between controlling a process and recording a process that was unravelling under its own momentum.  Part creating, part curating, if you'll excuse some very forced wordplay. 

The tent scene.

The series took a bit of a dip after the high-impact episode 1. The challenges continued to gently escalate - but that was all. There was not much room to go harder after the high bar set by the American team. Over the weeks the challenges began to shift focus - testing other attributes alongside endurance: NAVSOG in ep. 3 emphasised water skills and navigation, the SASR in ep. 4 focused on leadership and negotiation, and the Spetznaz in ep.5 focused on fear and concentration under pressure.

Some tropes got tired. The changing of goalposts, deprivation of food and sleep. Appointing a quiet person as leader - or appointing no leader and watching to see who emerges. Carrying a wounded colleague. Being set off on a long task, then told to stop once enthusiasm is demonstrated. Certain participants were always last in a footrace, or always first in a carrying challenge. Special Forces could have done more to emphasise the variety that existed between the various weeks, because hearing that these are top athletes being pushed right to the edge of their ability to march and carry heavy things gets old over 6 episodes.

The Spetznaz episode was the best for this - and still not great. At the begging of the episode, at the beginning of some tasks ("speed is not the only criteria I will be marking you on") and in the final elimination, mental strength was emphasised as a criteria by which the participants were being judged. Despite this, the episode concluded with a slightly zany obstacle race, which didn't fit well with these ideas (and in fact, was pretty irrelevant to the episode's outcome). 

The Spetnaz task, feat. Dogs.

We need to mention Freddie Flintoff, who appears in this programme. He seems uncertain as to his exact purpose, and we certainly were. Sometimes he talks to the participants, asking them not-particularly-useful questions about their situation and status. Sometimes he talks to the instructor: partly interestingly finding out about the purpose or history of the challenges, but often asking not-particularly-useful questions about the contestant's performance.

Freddie's appearance is justified in the show's opening by describing him as a 'top athlete' who 'knows what it takes' etc. etc. We find the opposite is mostly true: Freddie's most apparent characteristic is his ignorance - but this does vaguely work on Special Forces. By being essentially clueless Freddie can often get the best, especially out of his conversations with the instructors - and crucially - he often knows to step back, and let the events of the programme speak for themselves.

We must also mention the anonymous 'directing staff'. These are a team who appear in every episode and basically act as lackeys for the instructor - setting up challenges, running them, and shouting at the participants when the instructor is not around to do so. They are as much a part of the programme as the instructor, and we question the decision not to give them more of an identity onscreen.

***

We add a few remarks following the broadcast of episode 6. The first is a massive well-done to all of the participants, in particular the finalists, and in particular the winner, Clare Miller. We were impressed by Clare's performance, and her ferocious attitude in every episode. 

Winner Clare Miller

We were struck by the camaraderie that had developed between the finalists, and suddenly realised that Special Forces has been an example of "everyone gets along" elimination reality the whole time. This is a trope we believe was popularised by bake-off, although Strictly may also stake a claim to it.

Clare is, perhaps notably, a woman, and we wondered quietly about the show's tendency to make discouraging comments about women in the armed forces. This, it might be argued, is an issue of creation vs. curation: Special Forces treated its male and female participants equally in all the tasks, the fact that a number of the instructors talked about their belief that women were less suitable, or unsuitable for roles in their own ranks is the BBC presenting evidence of sexism, rather than perpetuating it.

We challenge the argument in that last sentence. The first is that there were qualitative assessments and decisions to be made by the instructors every week. For an instructor to be shown expressing this kind of prejudice, and then go on to deliberate on who will be eliminated, and for this to go unchallenged by the show, we think is poor. We disliked the way instructors would share poor views with the host, and no assertion would be made that this process was being adjudicated fairly.

We wonder whether the editors thought they had licence to negatively mention gender more often, knowing that ultimately a woman would win the competition. We hugely celebrate Clare's victory: but wish that given that the programme decided to make reference to gender so often, it could have done so more positively throughout.

The Interrogations

We also saw a potentially iffy sequence in the final, with the finalists subjected to a severely gruelling interrogation sequence. This time, the presentation fell on the side of creating much more than curating - with the cameras going 'behind the scenes' of the scenario, and the narration explicitly describing the safety procedure. We praise this, but wonder (with thoughts wandering back to the tent scene in episode 1) whether this was forced by the fact that one participant used the safeword, and, we wonder what we would have thought of a broadcast that omitted this detail. We also assume, and would liked to have had it shown that, good aftercare was offered to all the participants of this part of the programme. 

***

To conclude on Special Forces: We found episode 1 very impressive, we found the following episodes less impressive,  and a bit lacking in focus. We came back every week for the good moments: we respect what was attempted, but we think more could have been achieved. We think another series could be entertaining, although we wonder where else there is to go with the idea. The fact that we believe Special Forces is accidentally the first entry into a maybe-new genre, we'll discuss more in the future.