He Knew He Was Right

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.

Brilliant adapatation of Trollope's long novel. The actress playing Dorothy is particularly luminous, although all the cast perform well (especially Palmer and James as parents of poor Emily). The social norms and rules may seem strange to a modern audience, but this sort of thing kept Victorian readers on the edge of the seats. The setting was moved from Exeter to Wells for the serial as Wells is more unspoilt (a beautiful Cathedral City in Somerset for those unfamiliar with the UK). Vicars' Close, unchanged since Victorian times, and the Cathedral Close are used particularly well by the production crew.

Trollope wrote some 49 novels, although few would adapt as well as this to the small screen. Hopefully the DVD release will follow soon.

This is about the danger of malicious gossip. We have the naive young wife, played by Laura Fraser (Lydia in "Breaking Bad") who has just moved to London with her husband. A friend of her father, played by the ever mischievous Bill Nighy, comes to visit–daily. Her husband overhears gossip about the relationship and sinks into paranoid despair, made worse by a cynical private detective played by Ron Cook (Mr Crabb in "Mr Selfridge"). One of the side stories is about the hapless vicar "in want of a wife" played by David Tennant, whose facial expressions alone are worth the price of admission, so to speak. This mini-series was adapted by Welsh screenwriter Andrew Davies from the Anthony Trollope novel. I haven't read the book so don't know how closely Mr Davies kept to it. I enjoyed the mini-series.

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.

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.