Cilla

The opening episode of Cilla is worth trying for Sheridan Smith, with a sizeable reservation about where it puts its attention. Jeff Pope writes and Paul Whittington directs this three-episode drama, which places Cilla Black alongside a substantial collection of familiar names. That is an understandable way into a biography, but it becomes a problem when the surrounding company begins to seem more important than the subject. The Beatles are particularly difficult to accommodate without displacing her.

Sheridan Smith makes a persuasive Cilla Black, giving the programme something to offer beyond the pleasure of recognising familiar people. We warmed to her, then resented the distractions. Her performance holds our attention firmly enough for the Beatles’ appearances to feel like interruptions. The portrayal does the essential job of making us interested in the person being played, rather than leaving us occupied with comparisons between an actor and a celebrity.

Aneurin Barnard plays Bobby Willis and Ed Stoppard plays Brian Epstein; John Henshaw and Melanie Hill play John White and Priscilla White. This is already a substantial group through which to approach Cilla Black, without depending on the Beatles for interest. There is scope here for a drama that lets its leading character matter to us through the people around her. The opening episode too readily exchanges that possibility for the easier pleasure of introducing somebody whose name we already know.

Jack Farthing is John Lennon, Kevin Mains is Paul McCartney, Michael Hawkins is George Harrison and Tom Dunlea is Ringo Starr. Those names bring associations before the actors have done anything, which makes the task of keeping them in supporting roles unusually difficult. Their inclusion is not itself a mistake; a biography need not pretend its subject exists alone. But Jeff Pope and Paul Whittington allow the Beatles to compete too successfully for our interest, until Cilla Black risks becoming the person who happens to know them.

Tania Reddin’s editing has the awkward task of keeping Cilla Black central while making room for this company, and it cannot quite do both. Niall Byrne’s music, Lisa Marie Hall’s production design and Amy Roberts’s costume design all contribute to the presentation without resolving that difficulty. We would not blame those departments for a problem that begins with the choice of whom to follow. What the opening needs is more confidence in Sheridan Smith, whose performance already supplies a good reason to stay with the title character.

Biographical television often relies on recognisable figures to establish its subject’s importance quickly. Here, that habit means we spend too much time thinking about people other than Cilla Black, although the lead performance makes the case for concentrating on her. It leaves a decent opening episode with a limitation worth taking seriously, rather than an easy recommendation. Try it for Sheridan Smith, provided some Beatles-related distraction will not spoil the evening.