He Knew He Was Right

"He Knew He Was Right" is a 4x55 minute TV miniseries adaptation which is very much like the usual Victorian melodrama fare from such notables at the Brontes and Austen. The backbone of the story is about a young man of property who marries and then becomes obsessively jealous of attentions paid his wife by her Godfather. Crisscrossing the main plot are several subplots involving the societal clockworks of middle and upper class Victorian society with all the usual scheming for peerage and property, premarital posturing, courtship and affairs of the heart, and busybody bickering among the staid and stuffy pomp of the times. Although "He Knew He Was Right" has a darkish central theme, it never takes itself too seriously and manages a very subtle and wry sense of humor as it cavorts among the many characters with charm, wit, grace, and beauty. A worthwhile watch for anyone into Victorian melodrama. (B)

The BBC have done it yet again; they have taken us back in time in a marvellously convincing manner. It is difficult to find fault with any aspect of this production; settings, locations, costumes and casting are all near perfect and the acting is admirable throughout. From the beginning to the end my attention never flagged for a moment; it is so jam-packed with human interest that I couldn't have enough of it. This is not a melodrama as some have said; taking into account the mores of the time it is totally realistic, with nothing over-played. Yes, it was annoying that the central character should allow his happy marriage to be destroyed by unfounded jealousy and a bit difficult to accept, until you you remember that that wasn't his only source of complaint; he was also annoyed that his spirited wife refused to submit to his unreasonable demands, something which as a Victorian husband he felt he had a right to expect. And she was not entirely blameless; she didn't have to behave in such a flirtatiouus way as to excite her husand's jealousy or to appear to enjoy so much the attentions of her philandering God-father. However, the anger and strife of the two central characters was offset by two other very happy relationships. With so many characters so well realised, well acted and convincing, I was left wanting more - much more.

Let me say before I go any further that I have not read the book, but I shall. As with all adaptations, Gone with the Wind aside, there will be butchery to fit into time constraints and productions needs. Having said that, the acting was flawless; what brilliant casting. I start to think of Geoffrey Palmer as the bewildered Victorian parent whose daughters, and almost wife too, ignore his rulings, and then I think of the two French daughters in their pursuit of the naughty vicar and then I am distracted by Aunt Stanbury.... it goes on and on. Trollope's skill for me was in the drawing of his characters and the BBC have captured this perfectly. The only fault I could find, although I didn't look too hard, was that Dorothy seemed to wear the same frock throughout, and I did wonder about the smell. The main story became almost irrelevant at times.

Love Trollope - loved this. If I had read the book first would I still? Hard to say, but this is quality TV mate, and it's a rare bird.

This latest period drama, written by Andrew Davies, takes a minor and rather unusual Trollope novel and applies the full Davies/BBC costume drama treatment. The sets are sumptuous, whether in a London still with fields and footpaths, the cathedral city of Wells or Italy. The acting is excellent, with outstanding performances by some of the older generation of British actors - notably Anna Massey, Geoffrey Palmer, Bill Nighy and Geraldine James.

But the novel itself is not the usual Trollope of politicians and clergymen (although both are featured). It is rather a psychological study of a man consumed by jealousy, and its effects on all around him. The problem in the 21st century is that the bases for the jealousy, the responses and the social mores which shape them, are so deeply rooted in Victorian England's peculiar class structure that they are hard to comprehend, and even harder to sympathise with. So that this viewer is irritated rather than involved, wanting to ask "what is all the fuss about?" But the director, writer and cast keep the action moving briskly through the four hours of the mini-series, and it is only in the final hour, when melodrama turns farcical, that the irritation overcomes the involvement.

Chopped up Trollope is worse than no Trollope at all in my view. There is barely enough exposition for a complex set of characters but there are plenty of climaxes and assorted running gags which are hard to get unless you've read the book. It's basically is a series of punch-lines with no lead-ins.

This isn't even directed on decent soap opera level, which might have satisfied the time constraints. Why oh why must so many of the characters mug as they address the camera. With the exception of Anna Massey, the acting is dreadful, particularly the leading men, who look like they long to be in a rock opera or at least an early Disney Opus. A spoonful of medicine isn't enough for this travesty, I'm afraid.

As usual for Masterpiece Theater, the settings are lovely & the music is very loud.