The Bombing of Pan Am 103 review – this kind, cheesy Lockerbie show just doesn't work as TV
The bombing of Pan Am flight 103 on 21 December 1988 was an event so large, so complex and so significant that for a long time it was hard for anyone to take a clear view on it. Many elements remain murky to this day, despite – or perhaps because of – it being an act of terror that was unprecedented in its effect on Britain and the US. The plane exploded over the small town of Lockerbie in Scotland, having taken off from London on its way to New York and Detroit, completing a journey that began in Frankfurt. The hunt for the perpetrators soon focused on the Middle East and north Africa. With half the world demanding answers, the families of the 270 people killed found it difficult to be heard.
The hidden human cost of the post-crash chaos is where The Bombing of Pan Am 103, a six-part fictionalisation, initially tries to find its dramatic impetus: the series argues that the dignity of the victims and the sensitivities of their loved ones were trampled. More care should have been taken to respect the dead, it says. But it struggles to turn this admirable sentiment into drama.
First we have the disaster itself, and the fateful scenes before it of passengers boarding, and Lockerbie residents going about their innocent pre-Christmas business. For shows about infamous atrocities, these introductory passages are always hard. How long do you linger on these people who are doomed? Lead writer Jonathan Lee employs quick vignettes with mixed results. A girl clutching her teddy bear, a beloved toy that we come across later in a charred field, can't help but feel cheesy, despite its roots in reality; but the Lockerbie boy who survives the destruction of his family home because he is out organising his sister's big present is a piercing happenstance.
The series does a stout job of portraying the scale and violence of what befell Lockerbie. The force of the blazing debris landing is startling, as is an impressive tableau of a whole street on fire. The sight of luggage scattered on a winding country road, picked out by the weaving headlights of a police car, shows what a horribly macabre scene the early responders encountered.
Among the first police to arrive are DS Ed McCusker (Connor Swindells) of Glasgow CID and senior investigating officer DCS John Orr (Peter Mullan). Before long, McCusker is having to tell FBI man Dick Marquise (Patrick J Adams) to give the shocked people of Lockerbie some time before he charges in to interview them; Orr, meanwhile, is dealing with Americans who assume they are the most important person in any room, and a UK government envoy who smugly tries to assert the authority of Britain over Scotland.
A squabble over jurisdiction hampering the quest for truth is one thing, but the series seems genuinely exercised by the importance of Orr being in charge, in and of itself. 'Scottish soil! Scottish evidence! Scottish procedure!' he barks at someone who doubts his authority, in a way that surely isn't intended to make him seem parochial and pompous, but does.
The drama's other main focus is the way the bombing brought out the best in compassionate, resourceful people and communities, and here there is no doubt that it has right on its side. Lockerbie locals insisted on staying with bodies that had ended up on their land, not wanting the dead to be left alone; the town's women volunteered to clean and sort the passengers' bloodied clothing. Touching gestures of course, but the scenes portraying them don't have any conflict or stakes – they're not so much drama as reporting.
And on occasion, the show's desire to pay service to the victims tips into sentimentality. Lead volunteer Moira Shearer (Phyllis Logan) bemoans what she sees as an unacceptable delay in returning a Bible found among the wreckage to the owner's loved ones, for which she blames Orr's skewed priorities; the FBI's top man Marquise dismisses his wife's emotional paean to the people lost, then relents when he sees a wrapped gift among the effects of one of the deceased. The message is that the investigators ought to have been more mindful of the victims as individuals who mattered – we might value that attitude now, but was that really the case at the time, for senior investigators tasked with solving the mystery of a major international terror attack? Surely they were right to have their eye on the bigger picture.
The show's viewpoint should sharpen in the remaining episodes, which build up a picture of new relationships formed and further inspiring kindnesses exchanged. For now, though, this is a drama that knows its subject matter is important, but isn't sure why.
• The Bombing of Pan Am 103 aired on BBC One and is on iPlayer now.

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CNN
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'Jane' Says She Entered 2-Year 'Love Contract' With Diddy - Laura Coates Live - Podcast on CNN Audio
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New York Times
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- New York Times
How fanzine culture gave a voice to supporters and changed English football
The titles were often gloriously creative and diverse, some paying homage to terrace anthems, others making a clever play on words. Sales were decent, too, with more than one million copies shifted per year at the height of what quickly became a phenomenon. We're talking about the rise of football fanzines in the 1980s. Those purveyors of insight and irreverence who arrived on the scene when the game was on its knees in a troubled decade and helped spark a revival. Advertisement Not just through fan activism, though there was plenty of that as fanzines joined the fight against compulsory ID cards, club mergers, and even proposals for a new European Super League featuring England's biggest names more than three decades before the more recent incarnation reared its ugly head in 2021. But, by giving supporters a long overdue voice at a time when they were considered pariahs by wider society, fanzines revealed those on the terraces to be intelligent, passionate people who had something to say beyond the cliched ''Ere We Go!' battle cry so beloved of the tabloid newspapers when generalising fans as hooligans. 'What fanzines did was offer an alternative voice that represented a much broader variety of perspectives on footballing culture,' says Kenn Taylor, part of the team behind Voice of the Fans, a new exhibition at Leeds Central Library exploring how fanzines helped change football. 'They critiqued clubs and critiqued aspects of footballing culture. But they also celebrated it and brought a really different kind of perspective. They allowed different groups of fans, some of whom experienced prejudice, to express themselves to show that they exist, too.' There had been earlier versions of fan magazines. Foul, a deliberate parody of magazines such as Shoot! and Goal, was produced by a group of Cambridge Students and ran for four years from 1972, while The End first landed on Merseyside in 1981 with an intoxicating mix of music, football and biting wit that ran for 20 issues and was edited by Peter Hooton, future lead singer of The Farm. But, really, the start of what would quickly become a truly national movement started with the arrival of club-oriented publications, such as Terrace Talk (York City), City Gent (Bradford City) and Fingerpost (West Bromwich Albion). Advertisement There was no single issue bonding together these early trailblazers other than a desire to offer an alternative view on clubs whose media coverage was largely restricted to the back page of the local newspaper and a rather staid, flimsy matchday programme. Soon, though, this early trickle of new titles had turned into a flood, with When Saturday Comes, surely the wise old grandfather of them all these days, first hitting the streets in 1986. Before long, every professional club in the UK had at least one publication chronicling their failings or otherwise and Sportspages, an independent book shop just off the Charing Cross Road in London piled high with fanzines from across the UK, became a tourist destination in itself as fans clamoured to buy the latest copy of Hit The Bar, The Gooner or Elm Park Disease. Visitors to Sportspages at the height of this publishing boom may also have enjoyed the artistic debut of future big names such as Trainspotting author Irvine Welsh and Libertines singer Pete Doherty, who wrote for Hibs Monthly (Hibernian) and All Quiet On The Western Avenue (Queens Park Rangers) respectively in their formative years. The Voice of the Fans exhibition claims that by 1992, more than 600 fanzines had appeared. Some proved short-lived, lasting just a few issues. But others, including hardy perennials United We Stand (Manchester United) and The Square Ball (Leeds United), are still going strong today in printed form despite so many of their peers having been swallowed up online. 'Heritage and tradition are perhaps the main reason there is still an appetite for the printed fanzine in our case,' says Mike Harrison, editor of City Gent, the longest-running fanzine in the country, which passed its 40th anniversary in October. 'Plus, as there is no longer a printed (matchday) programme produced by the club, City Gent is documenting what it is like to be a supporter of Bradford City from the fans' perspective.' Football and music have long been natural bedfellows, so it is perhaps not surprising that the roots of the fanzine movement that spawned such classics as There's Only One F in Fulham and Sing When We're Fishing lay in the record industry. In the late 1970s, punk briefly ruled the roost and the genre's DIY ethic struck a chord with fans who had grown tired of the music press and fancied having a go themselves. Advertisement Soon, Sniffin' Glue and Anarchy in the UK were required reading for gig-goers. In the main, these rough and ready fanzines — literally a blend of 'fan' and 'magazine' — looked to have been run off on the office photocopier when the boss wasn't looking. Crucially, though, they carried an authentic voice. Football followed suit just as the sport was hitting rock bottom. The Bradford City fire on May 11, 1985, which claimed 56 lives, came less than three weeks before another 39 supporters were killed at Heysel during a fatal charge by Liverpool fans before the European Cup final. Attendances had already slumped to less than 16.5 million across all four divisions of English football in the season that culminated in those two disasters. To put this 1984-85 figure into context, a combined 36.2 million people came through the turnstiles of the 92 Premier League and EFL clubs in 2023-24. Hooliganism, fuelled by often lurid coverage in the tabloids, helps partly explain why the public had become so turned off by a game that, in the years immediately after the Second World War, had regularly attracted a combined annual audience of 40 million fans. But there was also a lack of care from those in charge that allowed depressing episode after depressing episode to fester. These included a plan to merge Oxford United and Reading to form the Thames Valley Royals — as well as squeeze Fulham and Queen's Park Rangers into Fulham Park Rangers — around the same time Charlton Athletic abandoned The Valley. All three sagas had a happy ending eventually, thanks in no small part to the campaigning efforts of supporters. Into this mid-1980s maelstrom stepped the fanzines and a wonderful array of titles. Some drew on popular terrace chants such as Fortune's Always Hiding (West Ham United), Tired and Weary (Birmingham City) and the aforementioned Grimsby Town ditty about fishing. Then there were the clever puns, such as A Kick Up The R's (QPR), the Leyton Orientear and The Exe-Directory (Exeter City). Others required a tad more explanation, with War of the Monster Trucks a dig at Yorkshire Television from Sheffield Wednesday fans after the regional channel had cut short live coverage of their team's 1991 League Cup celebrations at Wembley to broadcast a repeat of a show first aired five years earlier. Advertisement Popular music also proved to be a breeding ground, with 4,000 Holes (Blackburn Rovers) paying homage to A Day in the Life by The Beatles, which features a line about how the Lancashire town's streets had 4,000 potholes requiring repair that John Lennon lifted straight from a newspaper report. 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Associated Press
an hour ago
- Associated Press
Key moments from the fourth week of Sean 'Diddy' Combs' sex trafficking trial
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A recording of the hotel attack on Cassie aired on CNN last year and security footage along with clips of the security tape recorded by a guard on his personal phone so he could show it to his wife have been shown repeatedly during the trial. Judge threatens Combs with trial expulsion Minutes after a prosecutor complained that Combs was seen 'nodding furiously' as his lawyer cross examined a witness on Thursday, Judge Arun Subramanian took a look himself and said he saw Combs 'nodding vigorously and looking at the jury' and doing the same later when the lawyers and the judge were having a sidebar discussion. Assistant U.S. Attorney Maurene Comey said prosecutors were concerned because the gestures amounted to 'testifying by nodding affirmatively' while his lawyer asked questions. During a lunch break, defense lawyer Marc Agnifilo promised to speak with Combs and ensure it wouldn't happen again after the judge told him it was 'absolutely unacceptable.' The judge sternly responded: 'If it happens again, if it happens even once, I will hear an application from the government to give a curative instruction to the jury, which you do not want. Or I will consider taking further measures, which could result in the exclusion of your client from the courtroom.' Mia says she was 'brainwashed' to send Combs loving texts after rape A former Combs personal assistant who testified under the pseudonym 'Mia' told jurors that Combs had sexually assaulted her multiple times over her eight-year career, though the attacks were 'random, sporadic, so oddly spaced out' so that she thought each was the last. She said he first molested her and forcibly kissed her at his 40th birthday party before raping her months later in a guest room at his Los Angeles home. On cross examination, defense lawyer Brian Steel's suggested that she fabricated her claims to cash in on 'the #MeToo money grab against Sean Combs.' Steel confronted her with loving texts she sent Combs long after her employment ended and asked how she could tell him, as she did in a 2019 text, that she had imagined Combs rescuing her from a nightmare in which she was trapped in an elevator with R. Kelly, the singer who has since been convicted of sex trafficking. 'I was still brainwashed,' Mia explained. Defense has success with questioning of Cassie's friend The defense had one of its most successful moments of the trial when attorney Nicole Westmoreland cast doubt on the credibility of a graphic designer who says Combs once dangled her from the balcony of a 17th-floor apartment in Los Angeles. Bryana 'Bana' Bongolan, a friend of Cassie who is suing Combs, had taken a cellphone image of a softball-size welt on her leg that she said occurred when Combs held her over the balcony for 10 to 15 seconds and then threw her into furniture. After it was shown to the jury, Westmoreland showed the jury cellphone metadata revealing that the photograph was taken while Combs was on tour in September 2016, staying at a Manhattan hotel. 'You agree that one person can't be in two places at the same time?' Westmoreland asked. 'In, like, theory, yeah,' Bongolan responded. 'You're not sure?' Westmoreland asked. 'Hard to answer that one,' she said. Later, Bongolan said she did not recall the exact date, but she had no doubt the balcony episode happened. Woman recalls sex performances during three years as a Combs' girlfriend A woman testifying under the pseudonym 'Jane' fought through tears and sobs to recount frequent sexual performances she participated in with male sex workers to please Combs and keep their three-year relationship alive until his September arrest. Jane's testimony, which is likely to continue deep into next week, is identical in many ways to the four-day testimony in the trial's first week by Cassie. Jane said she never wanted to have sex with other men but did it to please Combs because she loved him. Cassie described having hundreds of drug-fueled sexual performances known as 'freak-offs' in which she had sex with male sex workers for days at a time while Combs watched, sometimes directed the activity, and pleasured himself. Jane described having nearly the same experiences from 2021 until last August, though she called them 'hotel nights.' She said her relationship with Combs began with romance but later became reliant upon the sexual performances, especially after Combs began paying rent for her apartment. Defense attorneys have insisted that Jane and Combs only engaged in consensual sex and that Jane's protests to Combs in text messages were fueled by jealousy.