‘Boarders’ is a new BBC drama created by Daniel Lawrence Taylor, creator of ITV’s ‘Timewasters’. And while short of perfect, it is an entertaining watch that does well to allow the plot’s wider political implications to sit alongside the fun and follies of a private school teen drama.
The show follows five gifted black teenagers, who are moved from London to prestigious boarding school, St. Gilbert's, because its reputation needs improving after a video goes public of students bullying a homeless man. While the concept may seem unlikely, Taylor was inspired by the real-life story of four boys from East London given admission to Rugby School in 2008, and the main ensemble feel as if they could be real life kids too.
Josh Tedeku as the main character, Jaheim, effortlessly slides between portraying his character’s loyalty to his family and friends, and his desire to rise in the ranks of St. Gilbert’s. He is a character caught between two worlds, trying his best to meld the two and make sense of his own identity. While his introduction is him kicking someone in the head, he surprisingly lets himself be lulled into a false sense of security many times by classmates and even the head teacher, Bernard. Taylor does something interesting with Jaheim’s story; the realisation he comes to is not that he needs to break free from his “deprived background”, but that he needs to appreciate his existing community, because they (his friends from home, the fellow scholarship kids) are the ones who support him regardless, and not only when it is expedient.
Toby, a jack-the-lad polyglot (played by Sekou Diaby) is a fresh breeze in the heavy fog of teenage drama. He is the most enjoyable source of comic relief; the viewer is always laughing with him as he conducts his schemes. He is razor-sharp and uses the way he is perceived at St. Gilbert’s to his advantage in clever ways. Toby’s dialogue is probably the most slang-heavy of them all, exaggerated slightly in the first few episodes as the writers were clearly finding their feet. Overall, the teenage dialogue in this show feels accurate — pulling no punches with vulgarity or indelicacy alongside the heavy use of London slang.
Omar’s story is perhaps the most endearing — a sweet little caper about finding friendship and love, under the backdrop of him trying to be accepted into a secret cartoonist’s society. His sexuality is played for laughs in a slightly odd way – ‘Boarders’ sometimes struggles to wield its dramedy status, so some of the jokes about him ogling other guys can come off as slightly juvenile. That being said, his introverted nature, portrayed sensitively by Myles Kamwendo, is a well-needed balance to counteract all the explosive interpersonal drama of the other four stories.
Femi, played by Aruna Jalloh, is a first-generation son of Nigerian parents, who is desperate to fit in and use this opportunity for his personal gain. He quickly ingratiates himself with some posh laddish types who dub themselves “the Rahscals”, and is eager to shed his association with the other scholarship students. He is by far the least complex of the five. His story is one told many times before, and felt almost rote. ‘Boarders’ seemingly doesn’t know how to write African characters: his father’s horrendous Nigerian accent and the cringeworthy inclusion of him speaking Yoruba when stressed only adds to the sense that the writers were uninspired when writing his character. However, the idea of respectability politics trumping community is one that feels more common amongst African immigrant communities, and it would have been interesting for this to have been explicitly addressed in the show. The most interesting aspect of Femi’s character is how his storyline resolves — the lack of self-respect that his mindset induces is brought to the forefront as he confronts his position in his friendship group.
The character of Leah, a fervent activist determined to use her opportunity foremostly to make waves, is an interesting exploration of the fact that racialised minorities often must put in so much effort to gain equality that they can’t do normal human things like have friends. Mabel, who is earnest and well-meaning, tries to befriend Leah, but she is more interested in befriending the other black students already at St Gilbert’s (Abby, the mixed daughter of Bernard, and archery star Koku). Neither of the two treat Leah kindly, but she is so determined to use her time at St Gilbert’s to foster a sense of black community. Jodie Campbell does excellently with the script she is given, which felt unsubtle at times. Although Leah is a teenager, and teenagers easily get consumed by their political causes, her general lack of interest in anything other than politics did a disservice to her character’s personhood. The stereotype of dark-skinned black girls only caring about racism and being “bitter” about it is unfortunately still seen in black-centric media and this show is not an exception.
The supporting cast of characters like Abby and Bernard, alongside Rupert (one of the perpetrators captured on video), Beatrix (Jaheim’s love interest), and Preeya and Chelsea (the hilariously ineffectual DEI team) do well to touch on other issues such as wealth, performativity, and the politics of desire. The show’s pacing is good, but the tangible details — logistics of the scholarship, time scale of their time at St. Gilbert’s, etc. — are completely elided. It makes the show feel impatient with itself and a little bit ungrounded.
It would have been nice for the show also to expand on the backgrounds of the characters. We know that Jaheim lives with his Caribbean grandmother and his little brother, and that Femi’s brother was sent to Nigeria as punishment for unspecified antisocial behaviour, but another thing that makes the show feel ungrounded is the lack of information about the other characters. Knowing a character’s desires for the future makes them compelling, and every single person in this cast apparently has none.
Despite how frustrating the frayed edges of this show can be, the strength in ‘Borders’ is that it isn’t trying to say one certain thing: it lets itself breathe, exists at its own pace, and isn’t in a rush to make a grand thesis on what it is like to be black and British. In this way it is not revolutionary, but in that it sort of is — the show exists as a fun watch without grand fanfare.
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