Louis Theroux’s most recent documentary, which aired last week, focusses on the lives of South London alcoholics at King’s College Hospital. There is – unsurprisingly- no getting away from the fact that watching Joe, Aurelie, Peter and Stuart grapple with all consuming alcohol addictions makes for incredibly difficult viewing. Aurelie, who has been drinking eight cans of cider a day for over 30 years, comments that she is “More afraid of stopping than dying.” Sadly, this is not over dramatic: for her and many others in the programme, unless they can conquer their addictions, prospects are bleak. For instance, 44 year old Stuart is told that the majority of people who have damaged their livers to his extent are looking at less than three months to live. A particularly harrowing scene entails 32 year old Joe, who just days before seemed a totally normal and functional human being, is now weeping, writhing and begging for a drink in A & E after a relapse. Louis himself is genuinely distressed at what he is witnessing, commenting on the “Impotence I felt trying to help him.”
Clearly on the surface, this documentary deals with extreme situations. However, it hits closer to home than many of Louis’ previous works – and not just because it is his first piece for many years focussing on the UK. While it is unlikely any of us have had contact with neo-Nazis or porn stars, we may all have known, or even be, fairly heavy drinkers: alcohol concern estimates that in England alone nine million people drink more than is reccomended. Especially at university, drinking can come to occupy a central position in social lives and weekly routines. The behaviour and level of addiction of those followed by Louis is, of course, extreme, but using alcohol or other potentially destructive coping mechanisms to deal with unpleasant feelings is something many can relate to. It is both common and acceptable to turn to a glass (or bottle) of wine after a long week. It is often easy to forget that our favourite social lubricant and Friday night activity can be incredibly destructive, and in the case of the patients followed by Louis, totally life destroying. “Drinking to Oblivion” is an – almost literally – sobering reminder of this.
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The very human hopes, fears and difficulties that lie behind such self destructive behaviours are also, in many senses, relatable. From Peter grieving his father’s death to Aurelie fearing she will find no one else if she leaves her abusive boyfriend, the feelings troubling these individuals are ones that, on some level, many have experienced. Perhaps this is why watching a drunk Joe sobbing uncontrollably about the breakdown of his relationship and the loneliness that consumed him was one of the most uncomfortable moments of TV myself and my housemates have seen.
“Drinking to Oblivion” also makes clear the undeniable role of mental health issues in alcoholism. Far from stemming from weakness or a lack of self control, for those featured, addictions have grown in a fertile mix of adverse circumstances and psychological or emotional issues. In recent years increasing attention has been given to the “State of crisis” in which UK mental health services find themselves. As Tilda Haymes has noted in her article, although mental illness is responsible for 23% of the disease burden of the UK, such issues only receive 13% of NHS funding. This means an widening gap between the services the NHS can provide and the seemingly ever growing levels of need. The dangerous and heartbreaking ways in which emotional difficulties manifest themselves in “Drinking to Oblivion” makes the programme another voice in increasing cries for change in this area.
(Photo Credit: www.metro.co.uk)
On a more positive note – and positive notes are difficult to find – we are again reminded of the fantastic and tireless work done by NHS doctors and nurses, albeit on limited resources. In times of government imposed contracts and junior doctors strikes, remembering the compassion and commitment of already overstretched and overworked individuals in our health system is vital.
Clearly, by no means is the programme a light hearted or easy watch. Nonetheless, many of the themes and issues highlighted are more relatable than may first appear, and the stories of the patients involved will stay with you long after the 60 minutes has ended. Perhaps the most apt description of Theroux’s latest work is from the Telegraph: “Somewhere between unmissable and unwatchable.”