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 on
and 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 amazing
cast 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.
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