Bleak House (2005)

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.