BBC Three Documentary - Don’t Call Me Crazy

Collection of newspaper and online reviews, social media reaction and communications the Trust has received

Don’t Call Me Crazy Media Reviews

The Independent

Some of the distress we see on television is representative; some of it stands only for itself. There are, for instance, half-a-million young people dealing with some kind of mental illness at any one time, which means that the handful of teenagers we watched in Don't Call Me Crazy speak on behalf of a much more substantial plight.

Don't Call Me Crazy was the result of "unparalleled access" to the McGuinness Unit in Manchester, a mental-health inpatient for teenagers, and although it began with an image that might have come from a more unreconstructed vision of such places – a girl pressing her nose into a porcine mask against the glass of an observation slit in a ward door – it was at first striking for the apparent normality of its residents.

Beth, a 17-year-old, admitted because of suicidal thoughts and anorexia, did remark that she liked "to see the bone" when talking about her self-image, but she did in such breezy and open tones that you assumed she was on the mend. Emma, a 15- year-old with OCD, was shy and quiet, but talked with a reassuring clarity about her problems. And even Gill, arms tiger-striped with the scars of self-harm, had her moments of ebullience.

Emma's story was the most encouraging. From a point at which she fretted helplessly about the rearrangement of her CDs during a staff search (she'd been up at 2am organising them because she was convinced her mother would die if she didn't), she steadily improved until she was ready to return home. But Gill and Beth were less responsive. Given any chance to escape, Gill took it, but the liberty she was after generally involved an overdose, or the opportunity to push a ballpoint nib so deep into her arm she had to be taken to hospital to have it removed. And Beth, with a face and a smile that could drop a teenage boy in his tracks, became so

reluctant to eat that she eventually had to be sectioned. She clearly had faith in the film crew.

At one point, she furtively showed them the Diet Coke she'd smuggled into her room, so that she could stave off hunger with the minimal of calories. If it had been a razor blade, would they have felt obliged to inform on her? And even though it wasn't, did they owe an obligation to her, or to the people who were trying to make her better? Still not sure about the answer to that, but the trust of everyone in front of the cameras in those behind them was repaid by the end result.

The Scotsman

Far more sensitive and sympathetic is DON’T CALL ME CRAZY, a three-part observational documentary focusing on patients and staff at Manchester’s McGuinness Unit. One of Britain’s largest teenage mental health units, it’s home to troubled kids with a variety of debilitating issues, ranging from eating disorders to self-harm.

Poignant but never cloying, it’s a candid study of fragile young lives: as one staff- member puts it, adolescence is a form of madness at the best of times. The recurring visual motif of depressed patients slumped in corridors may linger for some time.

Daily Mail

Teenage torment, courage and why humour is the best lifeline: Christopher Stevens reviews last night's TV…

Do Not Disturb, said the sign on teenager Emma’s bedroom door. And, underneath, in smaller writing, an ironic message added by her dad: ‘Already disturbed!’

A sense of humour is often the strongest lifeline during bouts of mental illness, as the brave young women on Don’t Call Me Crazy (BBC3) proved.

Filmed over a year at a hospital unit in Manchester for deeply troubled teens, the documentary’s unexpected flashes of humour were sometimes touching, sometimes horrifying.

When four of the patients at the McGuinness Unit tied their ankles together and staggered along the corridors, giggling wildly, it was hard to believe these girls could really have serious psychological problems.

But the lighthearted side of life drained away when Jill, 16, gave a rueful chuckle and told the camera with a smile that she was up to her old tricks again — peeling back a dressing on her arm, to reveal a hole gouged in the flesh with a ballpoint pen.

This film, the first of three, launches a BBC3 series on mental health, under the tasteless title A Mad World. It was searingly difficult viewing, but the sheer courage of the girls as they strove to articulate the torments they were suffering made it bearable.

With more than half a million young people treated for mental illnesses in Britain every year, their testimony will help many teens to feel less alone — and many adults to gain a glimmer of understanding.

Emma, the Do Not Disturb girl, was 15. She had obsessive compulsive disorder, a condition often trivialised on TV — one crass show sends people with OCD into the homes of hoarders, to tackle the mess. (It’s called Obsessive Compulsive Cleaners, though Cheap Exploitation Telly would be more apt.)

For Emma, OCD isn’t about cleaning. She hears voices, threatening all kinds of evil to the people she loves, if she doesn’t obey her superstitious impulses.

When nurses at the unit jumbled her rack of CDs, during a routine search for razors and other objects that the girls used for self-harming, Emma was wild with anxiety.

The voices had kept her up until 2am, rearranging those CDs like a charm to protect her family.

She understood her fears were irrational, but that didn’t make them less real. And she was determined her illness wouldn’t define her whole life. ‘ like bands,’ she said, ‘I like music, and chocolate, and the colour yellow. I don’t like all them things because I’ve got OCD, I like them because I’m Emma.’

The Guardian

Don't Call Me Crazy 9pm, BBC3

Beth is 17. She's lively and funny. She loves dancing and gymnastics. But Beth also has deep problems with her attitudes towards food, so much so that she's visibly disturbed by the idea of eating even a single piece of carrot. She's just one of the patients featured in a three-part series following life at Manchester's McGuinness Unit, where teenagers are treated for such conditions as OCD and depression. Despite the archly ironic title, this is a documentary that portrays its young subjects with real sensitivity.

The Metro

Despite its breezy title, Don’t Call Me Crazy (BBC3) was tough going.

Filmed in Manchester’s McGuinness Unit, which treats teenagers with mental health issues, it revealed a world continually of crisis. If you stuck with it, you were rewarded with insights into eating disorders and obsessive compulsiveness – I won’t joke about being a bit OCD ever again – and it was impossible not to be impressed by the commitment of the McGuinness staff.

As an introduction to BBC3’s It’s A Mad World season, drawing attention to the nation’s mental health, this was jumping in at the deep end: distressing scenes of a distraught former gymnast Beth, an eating disorder sufferer, being persuaded to have a drink were almost too gruelling to take.

Mind.org.uk

My take on BBC3's 'Don't call me crazy'

Wow, I think, is an appropriate start to this review of last night's first installment of BBC3's 'It's a Mad World' season, 'Don't Call Me Crazy'. If you missed it last night, some would tell you you did the right thing; it was very difficult to watch in places, but I'm sure many others, myself included, would tell you that it provided viewers with a balanced and sensitive, yet incredibly real and raw insight into life inside an adolescent psychiatric unit.

Platform Productions, a small independent production company based in Manchester were given exclusive access to the McGuinness Unit in Prestwich, one of the largest teen mental health units in the UK and one that is often seen as the last resort for young people in the North West. An essential and much-needed part of the Greater Manchester West NHS Trust, 3500 teenagers aged 13-17, both male and female, pass through the doors of the unit each year, some under a section, others voluntarily. A year of some of their lives has been cut down into just under three hours; it's an interesting thought in itself to consider that and think about the characters they chose to follow and why.

Last night was the first of three episodes of 'Don't Call Me Crazy'; an intense bombardment of mixed emotions resulting in a series of powerful messages, articulated impressively eloquently by the young patients themselves. First, we meet Beth, an award-winning gymnast and dancer who has a history of eating disorders, depression and had recently attempted suicide. She appears bouncy, full of life, pulling faces directly into the camera (acting up or just being herself, who cares?)

We're told almost immediately that most patients are depressed and withdrawn and we see shots of huddled bodies curled up in corridors, shrouded in hospital blankets, hiding from the world or too ashamed for it to see them. Beth has depression too, though. She is a risk to herself, even behind the smile and giddiness. Lesson number one is learnt very quickly; appearances can be deceptive, looking happy doesn't mean there is no hurt and some of those who hurt themselves, or worse, become extremely good at covering it up to seem 'fine'.

We follow Beth and her occupational therapist as she revisits somewhere filled with fond memories; the dance hall where she used to perform and win medals and trophies. The staff member with her encourages her to see the potential she has to beat her illness and get back into dancing, but as the episode progresses, Beth’s condition worsens. She refuses to go into the dining room and keeps a diary of hours spent not eating. It’s sad to watch, but if you’re not under a section, staff can only offer words of encouragement, not force, to help her to eat – and it’s not enough for Beth. She’s put on the ‘Rainbow Programme’, the eating disorder pathway, meaning she has to relinquish control to the staff who will supervise every meal, and she’s not allowed weekend leave. Distraught, she fails to comply.

One extended (gladly; people need to see this) scene focuses entirely on Beth’s mealtime supervision. Visibly distressed, her head is bent forwards over her plate, a trembling hand on her head and feet tapping loudly, desperately on the hard floor. She struggles to even pick up her fork and only manages to eat two small pieces of carrot before the fear takes over completely. In that moment, it is impossible to do something which most people see as a natural, normal and easy thing to do. She isn’t rebelling, she is suffering immensely, and it shows. Her meal is replaced by a high-calorie drink, but even that is too much. The foot tapping gets louder; it resounds more than the calming voice of the staff member, gently persuading her to pick up the drink, to ignore that voice in her head telling her not to give in. Eventually, she manages a tiny sip, slams it down and leaves the room.

I almost relived that anxiety whilst watching

As someone who has been in that exact position, I almost relived that anxiety whilst watching. Many people on my Twitter feed were upset and/or triggered by it, whilst others said it made them realise just how far they had come in recovery. I think that, however intense, it was critical to portray the true extent to which a person with an eating disorder can be absolutely, physically paralysed by fear. Nobody could watch that and say that she was being a brat or choosing to not eat to make a point. Lesson number two; mental illness is not a choice; anorexia is not a lifestyle, it’s a serious mental illness and a very dangerous one. Soon after, Beth is sectioned under the Mental Health Act.

We also meet Gill and a new patient, Emma. Gill has a history of depression, self- harm and suicide attempts and regularly attacks staff, and Emma has OCD. Again, both speak clearly and expertly about their conditions. Emma explains that OCD isn’t just about wanting everything to be clean; it ruined her life… She had to give up everything she loved due to uncontrollable thoughts and disturbing images causing her to perform certain acts and routines which became impossible to manage without specialised treatment.

It’s not about going in ill and coming out well

All of the treatment is geared towards discharge, but, lesson three, none of it is a cure: “It’s not about going in ill and coming out well.” These young people will inevitably still have blips, still be distressed, and may be readmitted, but the purpose of treatment (both drugs and therapy) is intended to build resilience and understanding of individual’s illnesses and thought processes.

After discharge, Gill is back after 3 weeks following a large overdose. She’s in and out of the acute ward, physically restrained by 4 staff member, sometimes face-down and after escaping from the unit, she goes missing and comes back after another overdose. She wasn’t trying to escape from the ‘prison walls’ of the unit, she was trying to escape from life itself. It’s visible from her scars and recent wounds that she is desperately sad. Some shots linger uncomfortably on her criss-crossed arms; perhaps we don’t need to see that or focus on it that much, because hearing a

teenager say “I just wanted to be dead” says ‘I’m hurting’ much more than any scars or cuts could ever say.

Emma is a sweet girl but clearly ravaged by her OCD. Out of the patients we meet, she’s the one who seems the most frustrated with her illness, and therefore the most determined to comply and work towards discharge. I’d liked to have seen more of her treatment, because her progress seemed miraculously quick; from almost tearing her hair out, consumed by unwanted thoughts in her hospital bedroom, to coping relatively well on weekend leave at home with her parents. She develops a really positive understanding of her identity in relation to her illness: “OCD doesn’t define who I am,” she says, with real conviction. We saw the progress, but not really enough of how she made those steps towards recovery, and ultimately, to discharge.

OCD doesn't define who I am

As harrowing as some of the scenes were, the patients and the staff who care for them try to make this fabricated world as normal as possible. They laugh at themselves, play games, dye each other’s’ hair and have eight-legged races down the corridors. But those corridors are hospital corridors, kicked and punched in and covered up – there’s no forgetting that. There is discussion over how ethical this production was, and how triggering it could be to viewers who may be vulnerable, going through or having gone through similar disturbing situations. For many, some of the scenes shown were too close to home, but the programme did have a detailed warning at the start – people knew to watch with caution. There is that morbid curiosity, especially when there is a level of hype around programmes or series’ such as this one, but as the young people at the McGuinness unit learn to become resilient and understand and deal with triggers in the right way, so should we as an audience.

Youngscot.org (Youth organisation website)

Lindsay Steward, 23, from Fife reviews the first episode of the new BBC Three documentary 'Don't Call me Crazy' for Young Scot.

'Don’t Call Me Crazy' is a brand new series on BBC Three providing an educational insight into mental health in young people. It is based in The McGuinness Unit in Manchester, which is one of the largest teenage mental health patient units in the UK.

The aim of the series is to show real people suffering with mental health problems and create an awareness, fighting back against the discrimination which many people experience.

The first of three episodes began by explaining how life in the unit unfolds and introduced the viewer to a few of the patients. It explained that, although these young people were in a psychiatric unit getting help, they are still able to do normal teenage activities such as go to an inbuilt school or college, learn to cook, watch television, play pool and also have family visits.

One patient Beth, who we meet early on, is being treated for her eating disorder which has escalated during her teenage years. Beth is faced with the ultimatum that if she cannot begin to recover and eat she will never be able to return to her beloved dancing. The program highlights that the unit are helping Beth in order for her to return to her normal life and begin to re-establish her dreams.

We also meet Emma, an OCD sufferer. Her passion to return to her school and socialise with her friends is what drives her to road to recovery. Emma discusses her problem openly and declares that although she has OCD she will not let it rule her life.

She says: “It (OCD) doesn’t define who I am. Alright I’ve got it, but I like music, I like playing the guitar, I like bands, I like the color yellow. Just because I’m going through it right doesn’t mean it defines me as a person.”

Emma successfully completes her programme and at the end of the episode we see her leaving the unit to return home. Although she still has many challenges ahead she proves that getting help and talking to others can improve mental health problems.

Emma and Beth are examples of young people who are suffering with mental health problems; however both are strong and determined to change.

Like the aim of the program itself, the patients want to challenge the stigma which is attached to mental health. I feel BBC3 do this well as they were able to show real life situations and create a documentary which not only highlights mental health, but also reinforces that there is many support networks and help available.

Overall the program reinforces that a problem shared is a problem halved, that talking and creating friendships and bonds with others who are also suffering can aid recovery.

Emails received by the Trust

The collection of emails below were sent to the Communications Team following the first broadcasting of the documentary

Hi, I've just watched the first episode of Don't Call Me Crazy, and I just really wanted to say thank you and keep going! For a while now I've had a massive for people who self harm, depressed and suicidal, I've just come out 2 years of being really depressed, self harmed, and once attempted suicide, from the age of 16 to a couple of months ago, and have been trying to raise awareness of just how real it all is. I just really wanted to commend what you do, I love your work and thank you for sharing! I'm trying to set up a charity to raise awareness and to help teenagers in particular, and their families and friends. live down in Hereford, but if there is anyway I can help what so ever, never mind how big or small, I would love to do it! Thankyou again and keep it up!

Joshua Moore Website: www.theselflesscommission.org.uk Facebook: www.facebook.com/TheSelflessCommission Twitter: @GetSelfless Hashtag: #hopeisonthehorizon

Hi,

Having recently been inspired by 'Don't Call Me Crazy' on BBC Three I thought I would email to see if there is any way that I might be able to help with the new mental health unit Junction 17. I have almost 7 years events experience through my own organisation 'All That Promotions' and have recently joined social enterprise Young Music (www.youngmusic.co.uk ) as a Director and Events Organiser. I wondered if myself and Young Music might be able to help with the relaunch of the new unit?

I do have contacts to a couple of celebrities who may be available if you are still in need of a high profile guest to launch the unit. The main things I have experience in are live music acts and events management, so if you're in need of some help with organising the event and maybe even help with raising funds, I would be more than happy to help.

Kind Regards, Natalie Beard

Natalie Beard | Music Promoter | All That Promotions E: [email protected] | M: 07707743720 | Web: www.allthatpromotions.com

Hello there, I have just finished watching BBC 1's new documentary 'Don't call me crazy' which is documenting patients at the McGuinness Unit.. I was just wondering whether Beth was still at the Unit and if so would it be possible to become pen pals and maybe write to each other, she seems really nice and I would love to get to know her and we're the same age..

Thank you.

Kind Regards,

Alex Jones

Dear Sir/Madam

I’m sure you’ve been inundated with emails , but I’m certain I speak on behalf of most of the country when I say what an incredible, inspiring team you have working at Junction 17.

I was blown by their unfaltering dedication in helping those young people and I hope their work is getting the recognition it rightly deserves.

Please pass this on if you can.

All the best Katy

Katy Miller

Senior PR and Events Officer, YouthNet

1st floor, 50 Featherstone Street, London EC1Y 8RT Tel: 020 7250 5779 Email: [email protected]