Cold Comfort Farm

I was astonished and delighted to discover, quite by chance, that the BBC's 1971 production of Cold Comfort Farm was available on tape. Ironic that it should only be available in American format!The dramatisation of a favourite novel is seldom received with unreserved pleasure by aficionados, but I well remember my own wholehearted delight in this particular instance.

Comparisons are odious, of course, but I felt John Schlesinger's more recent film lacked the rawness and anarchy of Peter Hammond's production – I found it altogether too picturesque. I also sorely missed Joan Bakewell's narration, which so successfully incorporated, in the earlier version, the wonderful purple passages of Stella Gibbons prose. For me nothing could equal Alastair Sim's extraordinary performance as the tortured Amos, nor surpass Rosalie Crutchley's interpretation of the bereft and despairing Cousin Judith. Definitive too, is the imperturbable normalcy of Sarah Badel's Flora Post, especially in the chaotic and violent scene of Ada Doom's Counting! I originally saw the production in black and white, which I think might have been a plus – I found the colour insipid rather than atmospheric – but I highly recommend this production to any Cold Comfort Farm enthusiast!

The only enjoyment in watching this TV version was the nostalgia it brought back for all those wonderful old TV productions of the "why don't they do the kind of dramas they used to do". One forgets just how crude they were at times. I was more interested in the sets, and whether they would remain standing than I was in the action. The production just screams TV studio set. Although Rosalie Crutchley and Brian Blessed gave their usual outstanding performances, it made me appreciate the Kate Beckinsale film all the more.

I agree that the film version is far superior to the TV version, but when I saw Cold Comfort Farm in 1971 I loved it. Then I discovered the novel, read it, and immediately bought copies for all of my friends. I had to drive almost 100 miles to see the movie, and it was worth it. The movie is better than the old TV version, but the book is much, much better than the movie. I will always be grateful to Masterpiece Theater for introducing me to this treasure.

See the wonderful 1995 movie version instead! I'm a big fan of British comedy and drama, and of the early 1970's Masterpiece Theater series that ran on PBS. However this early TV version is an absolute train-wreck of a production; everything about it is really bad. Those involved seem to have been watching too many Fellini films and seen too many stage productions of Marat/Sade, and thought it would be a fun idea to try incorporating a similar approach here. The result is a bizarre and amusingly unwatchable mess.

I was very much looking forward to seeing this. The cast looked very promising (especially Alastair Sim) and the BBC has a high reputation when bringing classic literature to the screen.

Somehow, somewhere, it all went wrong. Even by the standards of 1968 it is obviously studio bound, and the sets are so cramped you never get the idea of the farmhouse as a house, just the corner of a room here, a gate in the farmyard there. The camera set-ups are such that the main action always seems to be obscured by something in the foreground. The director also seems to be well on-board with the 60's 'sexual revolution' (basically people stopped hiding what they'd been doing anyway) and we are treated to shots of 'ploughing' (fnrr-fnrr) cut with a woman writhing in ecstasy in the main titles. There's also a bit of a manure fetish going on for some reason.

I was disappointed in the performances, which are too broad. The Starkadders are grotesques, but they need to be kept within bounds or they just look silly. There is so much ranting and raving in the first episode that it isn't so much funny as tiresome, especially by Billy Russell. Even Alastair Sim only gets into his stride during the sermon to the Quivering Brethren in part two. Sarah Badel is a bright and level-headed Flora, and Rosalie Crutchley makes a good Judith, but not enough to surpass the hint of madness in Eileen Atkins' eyes in the Schlesinger version.

It's not just the age of the production which is the problem here, it's the tricksiness of the director and his indulgence of the actors. I give it six stars because Alastair Sim is in it, but even he is not at his best.