A SENSITIVE, powerful piece of documentary film-making, Lover, Liar, Predator (BBC2 Monday, available on iPlayer) is the story of how the serial rapist and controlling domestic abuser Aaron Swan was brought to justice, and it is told with huge bravery by the women who made it possible — and whom he harmed.
The abuse took place over more than 20 years. Of the many victims, four courageously talk about their experiences for this documentary. One of them is Natalie Collins, a Christian gender-justice campaigner (Interview, 18 January 2019). Her direct experiences of abuse at the hands of Swan led her to found the Own My Life Course, which helps women to liberate themselves from male violence and control, and to live lives free from abuse. Ms Collins’s part in the story is redemptive; for it was through this transformative course that she encountered Robyn, another of Swan’s victims.
Like all abusers, Swan was an arch-manipulator with a recognisable pattern of behaviour: the targeting of vulnerable teenage girls, which was followed by love-bombing, their gradual isolation from family and friends, increasingly degrading treatment, coercion and control, and sexual violence. Another tactic of abusers is to tarnish the reputations of former partners by painting them as unstable and, therefore, unbelievable. By supporting one another and shunning the narrative that Swan had spun about each of them, the women were able to challenge him collectively. “That’s how we break his power over us: by being together.”
It is harrowing viewing, and includes details that are difficult to listen to; but there is also redemptive beauty in this search for truth and justice through the power of sisterhood.
The Take That documentary (Netflix, 27 January) provided some lighter relief as well as a trip down memory lane. I was 13 and the target demographic when this boy-band phenomenon burst on to the pop scene in 1992. It began with Gary Barlow, a young musician and songwriter, around whom the manager, Nigel Martin-Smith, decided to build the band. Each member just had to slot into his assigned position: Gary the talented one, Mark the cute one, Robbie the funny one, and then Howard and Jason, who just had to dance and look good. What could possibly go wrong? As this series colourfully illustrates, pretty much everything.
This three-part series uses contemporary video footage, some of it deeply personal and never seen before, as well interviews with all five band members, to paint a picture of a very different time: one of chaos, hedonism, pressure, competing egos, and mounting tensions. Overall, it is a heartening story arc: young men puffed up by fame and adulation acquire humility through failure and admitting their faults, and finally learn that collaboration and communication are the best way to work together.
