Little Dorrit (2008)

 

Apparently this is a good week for writing about adaptations of books but not the actual books themselves.  After the earlier post about the film of A Single Man, today’s write-up focuses on this Masterpiece miniseries of the Charles Dickens novel.  Though my chief literary-miniseries source remains Jane Austen, there have been some nice projects made based on Dickens, and this 8-hour program is terrific.

 

The Little Dorrit in question is Amy Dorrit, a young woman born in a debtor’s prison.  Thanks to her gentleman father’s profligacy, she’s spent her entire life in its shadow, taking odd jobs by day and bringing her meager earnings back to her father in the prison every night.  She’s the quiet caretaker of, not only her father, but her older brother and sister as well, along with various indigent friends.  When she forms a chance friendship with the well-to-do Arthur Clennam, the kind-hearted man seeks to improve her family’s financial situation, but she wants nothing more than his love.

 

The storytelling is a bit problematic – like Esther in Bleak House and many of Dickens’s prominent female characters, Amy is a fairly saintly Angel of the House.  It’s not an uncommon archetype for Victorian writers, but it means that Amy’s selflessness often belies belief; she’s just too much of a paragon.  Though the book doesn’t ignore Amy’s feelings about her constant, unappreciated service for her family, the miniseries does a more effective job of really dramatizing it, and that helps to ground the character a little more in this version.  Yes, she’s only really content when she’s giving of herself to others, but Claire Foy’s beautiful performance highlights her pain at the dismissive treatment she receives.

 

Because her family really is awful.  Her beloved father is the worst – she loves him so completely, is basically living entirely to serve him, and he’s utterly tone-deaf to it.  He’s forever attuned to any perceived slights at his reduced circumstances, and any time Amy says the wrong thing or shows the smallest sign of not being wholly at his beck and call, he lets loose the most insidiously passive-aggressive guilt trips to make his slavishly devoted daughter feel horrible about herself.  There’s a scene where some modest perks of his are jeopardized when Amy fails to fall in line with something that would irrevocably change her entire life, and he just goes onand on about some “friend” whose “sister” heartlessly refused to do this very insignificant thing that would’ve eased her poor destitute father’s “(I mean) brother’s” suffering.  It was a hard scene to read, but seeing it play out onscreen, where he won’t let it lie and she just silently crumbles and takes it, is so heartbreaking.

 

The miniseries excels best at softly tragic scenes like this one, but it also has a fine touch for the comic moments.  Additionally, it has an amazingcast that includes Matthew Macfadyen as Arthur, plus Andy Serkis (Gollum himself), Maxine Peake (Veronica from Shameless,) and Whoniverse folk Freema Agyeman (Martha!), Arthur Darvill (Rory!), and Eve Myles (Gwen from Torchwood.)  Everyone wonderfully realizes their characters from the book but, apart from the stellar leads, I want to single out Ruth Jones as Flora, Arthur’s old flame who hasn’t quite burned out yet, and Russell Tovey (Midshipman Frame from the Titantic episode of Doctor Who, and former History Boy) as John, the assistant turnkey besotted with Amy.

A few thoughts on Jane Eyre

 

A handful of years ago, I took a class on literature in film, in which we read a number of stories/novels and compared them with their film adaptations.  At the center of the class was Jane Eyre.  After reading the novel, we watched a 2006 miniseries of the novel and, in small groups, watched one of three other adaptations.  I had a number of quibbles about the miniseries, particularly the creative license described below – I got into more than one debate with fellow students on this issue.  (Note:  I’ll be going into some detail of a major plot twist from the book, so anyone wary of Victorian spoilers take heed.)

 

In both works, governess Jane Eyre falls in love with her employer, Edward Rochester, and despite the stringent class divisions of the day, he falls in love with her as well.  She is shocked when he declares his feelings, and as they begin to plan a wedding, she seems to be heading toward an impossible dream life.  Naturally, it isn’t until they reach the altar that she learns of his secret:  he’s already married, to a mad woman living in a locked chamber in his attic.

 

While Jane is obviously horrified and devastated in both versions, this is where things diverge.  In the book, Rochester admits that they can’t legally marry but is desperate for them to go somewhere they can carry on together, spouses in all but name.  In the miniseries, though he still begs her to go away with him, he promises they’ll be as brother and sister to each other.  Novel and adaptation alike show a brokenhearted Jane refusing him, and the next section of the story finds them separated.

 

In class, I spoke with several classmates who preferred the miniseries version.  They felt Rochester comes across as too pathetic in the book, so it’s no big surprise when Jane denies him.  In turn, they found his requests in the miniseries more reasonable, making him come across much better.  To me, though, this change misses the whole point of Jane’s dilemma.

 

Jane loves Rochester heart and soul; her greatest desire is to be with him.  However, she is deeply devoted to her religion and believes it would be against God to stay with him if they couldn’t get married.  So, the book offers her her greatest desire at the price of her integrity.  She has to choose between her happiness (his, too – it kills her to refuse him) and God’s law.  To deny herself of everything she wants in order to abide by her convictions is massive, and it displays tremendous fortitude on her part.  Essentially, she has to cut out her heart so she can remain the person she’s tried to be.

 

By contrast, the miniseries offers her something she doesn’t really want at no compromise to her ideals.  She wants to be with him, yes, but not platonically.  Earlier in the story, when she thinks he’s in love with another woman, she makes plans to find a different situation because she can’t bear to remain in his home and see him married to someone else.  As such, I can’t believe she’d be satisfied with the whole “as brother and sister” arrangement, so even though he’s not asking her to go against her religion in this version, there’s not much reason for her to accept.  The only incentive is her desire to make him happy, and compared to the intense, messy richness of the choice in the novel, that isn’t enough.  (Not to mention, it makes her conflict more about him, and I prefer it when it’s mainly about her desires and beliefs.)  So, although Rochester may seem less whiny/desperate/whatever in the miniseries, I know which version is more rewarding for me.

Favorite Characters: Nan Astley (Tipping the Velvet)

 

While I thought this miniseries was just pretty good, I’m all about its main character.  Nan is right up my alley – she’s smart and adventurous, she’s brave when it comes to love, and even though her life is so often a mess, she just rolls up her sleeves and keeps going.  Definitely a terrific heroine.

 

Bildungsroman tales are usually good for main character development, and Tipping the Velvet happily obliges.  It’s wonderful to watch Nan’s journey, both from Brighton to London and to a greater, truer understanding of herself.  We meet her as a bright, unpolished small-town girl, sort of vaguely discontented but not quite aware of it.  She works as expected in her family shop, she stays in her small world, and she goes disinterestedly with a boy because that’s what you do.  She assumes that love is something that just happens in the background, nothing worth all the songs about it.

 

Until she goes to the music hall with her family and sees Kitty for the first time.  Onscreen, you can practically see her dividing her life into two phases from that moment:  before Kitty and after.  I adore her early reactions, because she doesn’t realize what’s happening.  She doesn’t know she’s in love; she’s never felt it before, and I suppose it doesn’t occur to her that she could fall in love with a girl.  As such, there’s no shame or secrecy or wrestling with forbidden feelings.  Rather, her regard is open and artless, and this somewhat shy girl bubbles up with talk of Kitty at every chance she gets.  What she feels is a revelation for her, and she simply has to share it with anyone who will listen.  I love that, that innocence and simplicity before she’s taught to be covert with her affections.

 

She’s so awkward and sweet in love.  She throws herself into it with the most headlong abandon, though, as I said, she learns to conceal it (barely – she says and does the “proper” things in public, but her adoration radiates from her eyes and her smile.)  She’s daring, and she gets burned more than once, but even when she’s been torn up by someone who’s careless with her heart, she pulls herself out of it.  She carries on, and after she’s had time to lick her wounds and buck up her courage once more, she throws herself into love again.

 

I’m so impressed with her boldness.  Obviously, it takes a lot of nerve just to be herin the 1890s – to love women, to challenge ideas of gender expression.  It’s thrilling to see how comfortable she becomes in her own skin when she starts dressing in boys’ clothes, so much more confident and more genuinely the person she wants to be.  And I don’t mean specifically from a gender perspective.  I mean, to do and say everything her shyness and shaky self-esteem ordinary prevent.  And beyond that (and her aforementioned courage in love,) she’s brave in so many other ways.  She leaves the only home she’s ever known to venture into the big city, she pursues and seizes a career on the stage, and during her leaner times, she keeps herself alive, putting one foot in front of the other and forever on the lookout for a way to improve her fortunes.  The woman is a boss.

The Crow Road: Episode 3 - “Fergus” (1996)

 

There's a great clarification in this episode, about the necessity of stories.  Kenneth talks about how the people of Scotland are made of their stories, that they've fought and sometimes died to protect them, and that it's the only thing they can really leave behind.  That's what keeps pulling Prentice's narrative into the past, examining the pieces that made him.  And it's why he needs to make sense of Uncle Rory's writings so badly.  More than just to find out what happened to him, Prentice needs to learn the stories Rory has hidden – because if he's died, or even if he just remains unfound, the stories will be lost along with him, and what will be left then?

 

Prentice, in “Fergus,” is trying to sort through everything that fell upon him in episode 2.  More than ever, he needs to make sense of things.  He's “waiting to interview the chief suspect: God,” but he's not getting the answers he's looking for.  He can't hear God speaking to him, and Rory's most telling tales are locked inside ancient floppy discs he can't get into.  That's probably the hardest part for Prentice – that he knows they're there, but he can't see them.

 

PC continues to be used effectively in brief appearances.  There's an excellent flashback in this episode that tells you a lot about him as a writer, and about the relationship he had with his brother Kenneth.  Really, the flashbacks are always reliably good.  I'm less sure about the bits when he pops in on Prentice's subconscious.  It feels a little like a cliched storytelling device.  I dolike, though, that he isn't especially wise or profound in these scenes, but simply himself.  I also like that Prentice isn't overly concerned that his uncle occasionally takes up residence in his head.  He's never surprised to see Rory, never worries that he's going mad.  He just asks questions, justifies his own actions or lack thereof, and sometimes argues.  I imagine it's probably a lot like what their relationship would be if Rory were still around.

 

Warnings

 

Add in a brief scene of violence.

The Crow Road: Episode 2 - “Kenneth” (1996)

I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something I'm really liking about The Crow Road.  The main performances have a great, human quality, and the drama moves in such a quiet way.  I like the exploration of the different characters' religious beliefs.  Kenneth – Prentice's father, whose atheism is much talked about – peddles fairy stories and pourqoui tales.  Prentice's Uncle Hamish has divorced himself from traditional organized religion and forged his own cracked form of faith; his prayers for God to smite the ungodly, from the Khmer Rouge to people who buy puppies before they're sure they can handle the responsibility, get some of my biggest laughs each episode.  And of course, there's Prentice himself, who isn't sure what he believes but desperately wants something bigger than what he can see.

 

In “Kenneth,” Prentice's mission to find out what happened to his Uncle Rory proceeds by fits and starts.  He's acquired a box of Rory's old writings, a confused jumble of fancy and fact littered with hints about his secrets, his unknown fate.  But Prentice, like most young people, is composed largely of confusions, concerns, and hormones, and life keeps getting in the way of his search.  There are troubles with school, with love, and with Kenneth (with whom Prentice forms one half of a stubborn feud,) and even the Rory Prentice conjures in his head can't keep his thoughts focused on the task at hand.

 

Still, progress is made.  Among Rory's papers are accounts of a shared childhood secret, a pivotal hunting trip.  A mysterious stranger has knowledge that points to something larger.  A few pieces are starting to slide into place.

 

Again, PC is used not liberally but well.  A portrait is gradually forming of Rory, built out of his own writings and Prentice's memories.  I think I'm fondest of the scenes that come out of the accounts he's written.  There's an awkward dinner scene that practically squirms with discomfort, and a post-hunt smoking session is perhaps the truest look we've seen so far as to what Rory is (or was?) like.  

 

*          *          *

 

And on a different note, can I just say:  no series 8 until autumn of 2014?  Good grief, Moffat, what are you doing to us?  Not including the 50^th anniversary and the Christmas special, that will make it more than a yearbetween seasons.  Remember when the split-season was introduced in series 6, and it was supposed to be so great because we’d never go more than 3-4 months without new Who?  Now, we’re getting fewer episodes at a time and still having the long wait.  Ridiculous.  I get that Moffat’s busy, and I’m excited that new Sherlock is on its way, but if you can’t devote Who the time it needs, then maybe you shouldn’t be running it.

The Crow Road: Episode 1 - “Prentice” (1996)

 

What drew me to this miniseries?  PC aside, it houses an army of familiar Scottish faces.  There are the Who veterans, Dougray Scott (from “Hide” earlier this year) and Bill Paterson (Professor Bracewell from “Victory of the Daleks.”)  David Robb, Downton Abbey'sDr. Clarkson, gets in on the fun, and this episode includes a (very) brief appearance by a young Sean Biggerstaff, best known as Gryffindor's Quidditch Keeper.  That's just too much Scottish goodness to pass up.

 

My appetite was whetted further when I saw Bryan Elsley's name pop up in the opening credits as the writer.  Granted, The Crow Road is based on a novel, but my enduring affection for Skinsruns deep.  This first episode drops us into a story carefully stitched together from strands of memory and imagination, whose characters are moved by both God and magic.

 

“Prentice” is named for its narrator, a young man in search of an anchor.  Prentice McHoan keeps being touched by loss – his aunt, his friend, and his grandmother have all passed in recent memory, and his uncle disappeared years ago.  The story roughly follows a line that begins with his grandmother's funeral, but Prentice slips often and effortlessly into flashback, sometimes leapfrogging several times back through the annals of his past before resurfacing.  He doesn't seem to know what to make of any of it and pans memories for evidence of meaning.

 

Even Prentice's plan of forward action calls for looking back:  before she died, his grandmother directed him to find out what happened to his vanished uncle.  In the coming episodes, Prentice will no doubt probe the circumstances surrounding the disappearance and try piecing together his uncle's life the way he does his own.  Time will tell what picture he can form.

 

Since PC plays Rory McHoan, the uncle most noted for being gone, I don't have too much to say yet.  Despite his absence, though, he remains very present.  Prentice's memories glimpse at an aspiring travel writer with a drive too large for a small village.  Numerous conversations prove him to be on everyone's minds, and they all have their own belief whether he's still alive.  He even appears in Prentice's subconscious, occasionally interrupting his nephew's inner monologue to argue, advise, or flaunt his unspoken secrets.  I'm looking forward to piecing him together.

 

Accent Watch

 

Scottish, along with most of the cast.

 

Recommend?

 

In General– I'll revisit at the end of the miniseries, but so far, I'd say yes.  I'm a fan of the narrative structure, the rootable protagonist, and all the weighty conversations.

 

PC-wise – Too early to tell – I haven't seen enough of Rory yet.

 

Warnings

 

Sexual content – discussion and two short sex scenes – plus swearing and recreational drug use.

Neverwhere: Episode 6 - “As Above, So Below” (1996)

 

Okay, last episode of Neverwhere.  Obviously, there are spoilers lying all over the place, so today's post is going to be incredibly vague.  Just know that the not-so-subtle theme I’m going for is “watch Neverwhere.”

 

Really great episode.  Bang-up conclusion – the final scene made me want to clap.  I love Richard and Door, I love the Marquis, I love London Below.  All together, this miniseries made for a very satisfying three hours.  Yes, the film quality is a little grainy, and some of the effects are unmistakably low-budget, but these things just endear it to me further by reminding me of the first season of Buffy.  Good writing is good writing, no matter how it's packaged.

 

And of course, there's Islington.  I really can't tell you too much about it, but he has a lot of screentime in this one, and PC is fantastic.  You see an entire different side of Islington, but you can reconcile it with what you’ve seen of him before.

 

Last thoughts for Neverwhere.

 

Accent Watch

 

RP – we talked about that.

 

Recommend?

 

In General– Oh my, yes.  This was right up my alley.  So imaginative, so well-written, so creatively-designed.  Like I said yesterday, I’m interested in Neverwhere’s other formats as well (novel, radio play, etc.), and this is probably the kick I needed to finally start checking out Neil Gaiman’s other works.

 

PC-wise – I would.  PC shows a lot of range as Islington, and he's great on all levels.  I will say – if you're only in it for the PC of it all and aren't interested in the miniseries itself (though I can’t imagine why), episodes 4 and 6 are the ones with the most Islington.

 

Warnings

 

Nothing beyond what I've already reported.

Neverwhere: Episode 5 - “Down Street” (1996)

I really don't want to say too much about this episode.  So many good twists and developments that it'd be criminal to spoil.  I'll just say that the stakes are high, life and death are in the balance, and loyalties come into question.  It’s a good one, people.

 

I've figured out what the set design for London Below reminds me of:  the micmacs' junkyard hideout from Jeunet's Micmacs.  Everything's cobbled out of found objects, trinkets, and trash, but it somehow looks so magical.  I love that.

 

Another brief appearance by Islington – just a tantalizer – but it's a good one, I'd say.

 

Oh, and it's come to my attention that BBC Radio recently produced an audio dramatization of Neverwhere, featuring the likes of James McAvoy, Christopher Lee, Natalie Dormer, Sophie Okonedo, and Anthony Stewart Head.  And the role of Islington?  Played by Benedict Cumberbatch!  I can't picture that, having seen PC's performance.  Just given what Cumberbatch's voice sounds like, it must be so different.

 

Anyway, what is up with Britain?  That cast is just ridiculous in the sheer amount of awesome crammed into one radio play.  Guess what I'm tracking down later?

 

Plus, Gaiman adapted Neverwhere into a novel, and it’s been done in comic-book form as well.  Goodness gracious – I knew going into Capaldi Fall that I’d have a long viewing list, but no one said anything about a listening/reading list!  I guess I figured out how I’m going to while away the long Who-less months between Christmas and whenever series 8 starts.

Neverwhere: Episode 4 - “Blackfriars” (1996)

Another great episode.  I love the way this story takes ordinary elements of London – underground stations, pigeons, homeless people on the street – and weaves them into legends.  “Blackfriars” also has a fantastic bit about the city's lingering history.  “There's a lot of time in London, and it has to go somewhere.”  What a line!

You may notice that I'm getting stingier with the details.  A necessity, I'm afraid.  I may wind up needing to be cautious describing any multi-episode appearances by PC, but especially with a miniseries like this, a self-contained story that's plainly building to a dramatic finish.  I'll do what I can to keep spoilers at a minimum.

But if you're reading my accounts of Capaldi Fall, you want to know about PC, and you might be getting antsy after the last two meager offerings.  Well, “Blackfriars” gives you a nice long look at Islington to make up for the glimpses of earlier episodes.

First impressions show him to be an angel in a gentle, unassuming way.  Richard, a skeptic about all things London Below but especially about Islington, quizzes him on his angel cred.  Islington, however, doesn't rise to it.  He is merely an angel, and Richard's cynicism doesn't concern him.  After Door's efforts to find him, Islington quietly points her in the next direction on her quest.

PC is pretty excellent here.  It's such a soft performance, but it carries a lot of weight.  There's an undercurrent of weary pain running through Islington's scenes, whether he's comforting Door on the loss of her family or remembering the city that had been in his care before London Below.  You can feel the years he’s live, the things he’s seen.  If anyone has doubts about PC's ability to carry off the 1000+-year-old aspect of the Doctor, send them here.

Accent Watch

No emendations needed, I'm pleased to report.  Definitely RP, probably the best I've heard from PC so far. 

Warnings

In addition to the previous warnings for Neverwhere, “Blackfriars” includes some implied torture.

Neverwhere: Episode 3 - “Earl's Court to Islington” (1996)

(For multi-episode runs like this, I'll throw a different picture up for each entry. Don't want anyone getting too bored!)

Before I begin, let me apologize for the late post today.  I've been locked in a battle of wills with my internet connection, and it was proving infuriatingly tenacious.  With that out of the way, I return you to your regularly scheduled Capaldi Fall.

Well, another episode, another glimpse – I kid you not. As you might have guessed from the title, this episode's main plot sees Door journeying across London Below to find Islington. The buildup is excellent; even if I wasn't a fan of the actor playing him, I'd be mad curious about him by now. As it is, I can't wait to see what he's about and how he can help Door and Richard.

And really, it's hard to complain, despite the scant use of PC. I'm reallydigging Neverwhere. I like the way it casts a mythic light on London locales. I've caught a few references – Earl's Court, Old Bailey – but ignorant American that I am, I'm sure there are plenty more that I didn't catch. Also, the set/costume design is really something; Islington's hangout, for example, is gorgeous.

Not to mention, there are some fantastic characters and cracking dialogue. Richard and Door both make likable leads, and the Marquis de Carabas, a slippery associate of Door's, is clearly something special. On the antagonistic side, the brothers Croup and Vandemar are a macabre hoot. 

All of the above just makes me even more excited to see what PC gets to do in Gaiman's hands. Bring on episode 4!

Accent Watch

I reserve the right to amend this (he's only had a couple lines,) but it sounds like RP to me.

Warnings

Add some animal cruelty to the warnings for Neverwhere– Mr. Vandemar has a twisted idea of fun.

Neverwhere: Episode 2 - “Knightsbridge” (1996)

Neverwherewas one of the first PC projects I had my eye on, although I didn't have a chance to get to it right away. The show is an urban fantasy penned by Neil Gaiman, who is of course a genre-writing juggernaut in a number of arenas. However, I'll confess right off the bat that I only know Gaiman through his excellent contributions to Who: “The Doctor's Wife” and “Nightmare in Silver.”

Until now. Two episodes into his wonderfully odd Neverwhere, and I'm definitely hooked. (Note: PC's character isn't in the first episode, but he appears in the rest of the series. I opted to watch the whole thing, which is decidedly the way to go.) It's sly and imaginative and very British – I'm a big fan.

Neverwhereis part of the subsection of fantasy that begins with an ordinary man's world being turned on its head by a fantastical encounter. The ordinary man in this story is Richard Mayhew, a nice Scottish fellow living in London with a basic flat, a typical job, and a standard-issue fiancee. The fantastical encounter kicks off when he stumbles upon Door, an otherworldly young woman being pursued by the pair of strange, off-putting toughs who killed her family.

Through Door, Richard is introduced to London Below, which is exactly what the name suggests: a mirror city operating beneath the streets of London, one with its own customs, beliefs, and troubles. Unable to return home, Richard accompanies Door, who is desperate to find out who wants her dead.

You might notice that I have yet to mention PC. Well, his character, Islington, is introduced in “Knightsbridge,” but that doesn't exactly mean he introduces himself. You can tell by the buildup that he's an important character – Door is given a vital message to find the angel Islington, and other characters discuss him as a legend – but you don't get more than a glimpse of him here. Be patient, grasshoppers. Be patient.

Watching multiple episodes of the same series is going to mean a change-up to my usual end-of-review routine. I haven't seen enough of Islington to tell his accent, and it probably won't make sense to include a recommendation at the end of each episode. I think I'll just give first and final impressions, throwing in additional bits if it's especially relevant. So, if you don't see accent watches, recommendations, or warnings in some of the coming days, assume the previous ones for the series carry over.

Recommend?

In General– Off the bat, yes. It's a bit like a dark, inventive cross between Miyazaki (maybe Spirited Away) and Jean-Pierre Jeunet (Delicatessenand The City of Lost Children.) I can't wait to see where it's going.

Warnings

Violence, general scariness, and brief swearing.