Some time
ago, I reviewed a BBC miniseries of another Dickens novel, Little Dorrit, that was made a few years after this one. Like that adaptation, I find Bleak House to be impeccably cast and
excellently well-made, especially in terms of how it handles its leading
lady. I haven’t seen nearly as many
Dickens adaptations as I have Austen films/miniseries, but Bleak House and Little Dorrit
both speak very well to his cinematic and televisual potential.
Esther
Summerson has had her obscure birth hanging over her head ever since she was
born. “Your mother, Esther, was your
digrace,” she’s always been told, “and you were hers.” As a young woman, however, she’s brought into
the care of a new guardian, John Jarndyce.
Joining them are Richard and Ada, relatives of John who stand to gain an
immense sum in a notoriously-complicated court case that’s churned away for
decades. While John attempts to convince
Richard not to pin all his hopes on the suit, Esther tries to adjust to the
idea of anyone caring about her and finds herself tangled in some intrigue
involving the chilly lady of a well-known country estate.
Although
I like Esther in the book, she is
still too good to be true there – too “good,” as in “being possessed of too
much saintlike, self-denying goodness.”
It’s a definite problem with Dickens, who was very fond of “angel of the
house” types (I find her more compelling than, say, Amy Dorrit or Little Nell
from The Old Curiosity Shop, but the
point still stands.) However, the
miniseries really does right by Esther and frees me up to unabashedly love
her. Here, it’s not so much that she’s
self-denying as that she honestly values herself so little (based on the
disgust she fed throughout her childhood,) and if she appears saintlike, it’s
because she feels she has to be useful in order to justify being allowed to
live among caring people. Anna Maxwell
Martin (Susan from The Bletchley Circle)
is phenomenal in the role. Her
beautifully-subtle performance shows you every hope Esther is too afraid to
nurture and every painful bit of self-censure she continues to internalize,
with a quiet strength running underneath it all like a current.
Overall,
it’s quite a reasonable adaptation. Some
of the twists are maybe a bit too telegraphed, but the suspense is well done,
the character interactions are excellent, and the humor is perfectly
Dickensian. Also, the sentimental
moments are brought forth onscreen with a more even hand than they are on the
page, which is a major plus.
Again, as
with Little Dorrit, the cast is
splendid. Other than the to-die-for
Maxwell Martin, I want to single out Gillian Andserson’s superbly-controlled
portrayal of Lady Dedlock and Burn Gorman (Owen from Torchwood) as Mr. Guppy, a poor lovestruck legal clerk who’s too
tenacious for his (or anyone’s) own good.
The miniseries also features Carey Mulligan, Denis Lawson (Urquhart from
Local Hero!), Charles Dance (a.k.a.
Tywin Lannister,) and numerous familiar faces from British telly in smaller roles,
including Catherine Tate.
Warnings
Drinking/smoking,
delicately-Victorian sexual references, and thematic elements.
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