Boy, Australian political drama has really gone backwards since the glory days of Kennedy-Miller and fare like The Dismissal. Last night’s Hawke was, not to put too fine a point on it, dire.

Sure, one could not reasonably expect micro-economic reform, the Accord Marks I-III and deregulation to make for thrilling TV, even if Richard Roxburgh (Dracula from Van Helsing) at one stage engaged in some post-coital discussion of wage-fixing policy. But I never realised the most important years of Australian politics since WW2, when a new style of politics and a new generation of politicians laid the groundwork for the modern Australia economy amidst some of the most dramatic moments in Australian political history, were in fact primarily about the great love affair between Hawke and Blanche D’Alpuget, while Hazel Hawke was a ball-and-chain miring Bob in the sort of domesticity unbefitting a world leader like him.

Hazel’s portrayal, indeed, lent a rather sour note to the whole business.

And yes, the wigs were good, and Roxburgh (Moriarty from League of Extraordinary Gentlemen) got the Hawke bouffant and voice just right. In fact most of the actors did well, despite various levels of miscasting.  Felix Williamson (Hugo “I only appear in blockbuster trilogies” Weaving was presumably too pricey) got the Keating voice spot on but until now we didn’t know Keating had a Picture of Dorian Gray-style magical portrait in the attic in Red Hill, since he didn’t age a day throughout the movie. Simon Maiden, mainly courtesy of the glasses, was on the money as Richo. And Patrick Brammall nailed Kim Beazley as a teenager, strangely brought forward in time to the Hawke inner circle.

But I followed politics in detail in the 1980s, and I still found it confusing. The average viewer must have been entirely bewildered by the Tarantinoid switching between different points in time (with Keating and Beazley mysteriously unchanged as we roamed back and forth). Key events like leadership challenges never appeared. Hawke’s political foes were some nebulous, never-seen enemy — the long-awaited opportunity to bring Don Rickles to Australia to play John Howard was sadly neglected. Bill Kelty, a close ally of Hawke’s in the opening scenes, had mysteriously gone over to Keating’s side by the time of the Kirribilli Agreement. Viewers across the nation must have been turning to each other in bewilderment. “He’s with Keating? I thought he was Bob’s mate. Why did he betray him? And what’s that Jewish guy from Scene 21 doing there?”

I was also unaware of the central role Hawke played in bringing down apartheid, despite — or perhaps because, it wasn’t clear — the efforts of Malaysian Prime Minister Dr Mahathir. But not for nothing does Roxburgh (Sherlock Holmes from Hound of the Baskervilles) tell Williamson that “it takes years to build up the global contacts to make a real difference on the world stage”.

But public affairs are one thing. It’s the affairs that went on in private that are the most important. The true constant was the inability of Roxburgh (Dr Orbit from Stealth) to keep his mind off Blanche, understandable given she’s played by Wolverine and Underbelly hottie Asher Keddie. The dollar has floated, elections have been won, vast numbers of jobs created, but it’s the Great Love Affair of B1 and B2 that anchors the story, complete with several bedroom scenes as the prime ministerial powder-blue suit is thrown off with passion in various hotel rooms.

Just think, in 25 years’ time, we could be watching TV dramas featuring bedroom scenes between Julia Gillard and Craig Emerson.