TV review: Titanic with Len Goodman (BBC2)

What on earth is Len Goodman doing presenting a history documentary series? That thought probably flashed through many a viewer's mind as they settled down to Titanic with Len Goodman,

It turns out he was a welder for the firm which made the ill-fated liner. Quite how that qualifies the admittedly affable amateur historian Len to present a story of such significance is a matter for another day. Len was our host, and that was that.

In a side-step worthy of such a highly regarded dance coach, Len dealt with this expertly, and very clearly.

This was not his story, but a compilation of the stories of the 2,000-odd passengers whose lives would either expire or be changed forever by their experiences on that maiden voyage.

And fascinating they were, too. Starting at the Harland and Wolff shipyard where the Titanic 'dream' was realised, we met the 'Guarantee Group' who were behind the building of the boat and its smooth passage into the water.

This group of nine, led by the brilliant Thomas Andrews, went down with their labour of love. Andrews even calculated how long Titanic would last after an iceberg ripped a 100-metre long hole in its bowels.

They kept the generators going until two minutes before it sank but when the lights went off, their days were numbered.

Len stalked the old offices of these fine men, finding everywhere a (conveniently placed) nugget hinting at the building's history.

"You can still feel the ghosts of shipbuilders in these empty rooms," Len told us, as he launched himself headfirst into sentimental tripe. It was a lapse he would often threaten to repeat, but just about managed to evade.

That was perhaps due to the utterly absorbing material which Len's researchers had sniffed out for him.

There was heroic Fifth Officer Harold Lowe, who returned time and again to rescue yet more stricken passengers. Following a campaign, he will finally be commemorated with a plaque honouring his bravery in his home town of Barmouth.

There were the emigrants – "for them Titanic wasn't a pleasure cruise, it was the start of a new life – for many it was over before it had begun", a wistful sounding Len observed.

And there was also a public inquiry, in the days when they were held suitably rarely so as to appear important. It inevitably shone a harsh light on a society in which class still played a huge part.

An amateur historian he may be, but Len raised his game here with a troubling statistic. Just a quarter of passengers travelling third class survived Titanic's demise, while 60 per cent of those in first class did. "The price of your ticket reflected the value of your life," mused an increasingly philosophical Len, who was showing signs of growing into his new (dance) shoes.

But alas, one man who paid the price for valuing his life above others was the terrifically named Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon.

The Olympic fencer, also admired for his dashing looks, clambered into a half-empty lifeboat alongside his wife and headed out to sea as women and children drowned in the waters they left behind.

That, at least, was the allegation – a toxic one which tarnished the rest of his life and has lived on with his family for generations.

Len's disapproval was implied, and by now his enthusiasm for his subject had become infectious.

A thoroughly enjoyable watch – eight out of 10, Len.