To Play the King

Compared to the first House of Cards, this is a retread of familiar ground, far-fetched in spots, and fizzles out in the 'explosive' finale. It is still fun to watch, and together with Cards, a great primary text.

The narrative tension arises from the fact that the protagonist—Francis Urquhart, now Prime Minister after the events of the first one—is both an actor inside the story and the capricious narrator who in telling it attempts to control that story and his environment, Lolita-wise. (which Ian Richardson has not only known, as anyone in his trade can be expected to, but actually played on the stage, in Albee's Broadway version as apparently Nabokov himself)

We are roped in the story, by Urquhart making the camera a co- conspirator on his side.

This could have been of more interest than the first. The issue of co- conspiratorial viewing more ambiguously rears its head here, because mixed with parliamentary intrigue, the great deceiver is beginning to show signs of doubt and remorse, but knowing him to be a demagogue, can we trust him? Is he lucidly toying with us? Do we open up? It all comes back to Lolita, the seduced younger woman, his mirrored nemesis the current Chief Whip. It is good material, a good text to work from.

Alas, the same problem persists as in Cards.

Urquhart's doubt grows from memories of the first film, the whole Mattie Storin affair. If you haven't seen Cards, he has done something horrible even by his standards, and tormenting visions begin to seep into and disrupt his control.

Now there are two types of film when dealing with cinematic memory, mostly distinct of each other.

Films where memory is a narrative device and the reminiscing self fetches the images as insight into some past story, a category of which this is a part of, and can be relied on for a good jigsaw but hardly much else. Hitchcock usually worked in this way.

And films, much fewer, where true to the function of memory, images steal into the story as insight of the narrating self, images not always in the right order or logical that partly create the self. All the great films (as well as Lolita) fall in this latter category.

So the narrative is clean and logical, which the British do better than anyone. The acting is fine, Richardson above all. But, there is no reason whatsoever for Urquhart to be truly confiding to the viewer, especially now that we see aspects of Urquhart he does not control. Everyone else is being lied to, uncertain and fumbling, but we are not. This is as if Lolita was just a chronicle of mischiefs, missing layers.

Although weaker than House of Cards, To Play the King is consistently entertaining, perhaps more so than the other parts of the trilogy, which ended with The Final Cut.

Francis Urquhart has been PM (played by the wonderful Ian Richardson) for some time now, and he now faces a challenge in the new King (a compelling impersonation of Princes Charles by Michael Kitchen), who's views on Britain conflict wildly with Urquhart's. Added to this, Urquhart is engaging in an affair with Sarah Harding (Kitty Aldridge), a pollster, and seriously getting on the wrong side of his oldest friend and Chief Whip/Party Chairman Tim Stamper (played by Colin Jeavons, who almost steals the show from Richardson), who has incriminating evidence concerning Urquhart's involvement in the death of journalist Mattie Storin.

To Play the King carries on the Urquhart trilogy with great confidence. Despite the fact that it came three years after House of Cards, all of the recurring cast slip back into their roles with ease. The location work and music are also outstanding. However, the real weakness with this production is that Andrew Davies' script goes over old ground. The dialogue is naturally superb, but Urquhart's relationship with Harding is thin compared to the one between him and Mattie, and the ending strangely lacks the emotional edges of the other two in the series.

That said, To Play the King is highly enjoyable, and worth checking out if you were a fan (and who wasn't) of House of Cards.

Following his appointment as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, Francis Urquhart is rather plagued by guilt over the actions that got him there, while at the same time lacking a challenge to stimulate him in the way his political rivalries once did. This changes as the new King of England decides to throw his social conscience into the political ring, and as FU takes on a new 'slave' to inspire him and to tutor. The King's simplistic sentimentalizing of the plight of the poor leads FU to perhaps underestimate him, while he also remains unaware of the presence of a tape of his rooftop meeting that ended the previous series.

There is a certain meanness and cynicism in this BBC film that is perhaps lacking in the US version, and this second part of the House of Cards trilogy continues with that. The viewer remains drawn into FU's world and decisions in a way where we are confronted by his cold maneuvering, and this continues throughout the episodes. This time the opponent is the new King – a very thinly veiled version of Prince Charles; the reality of this power struggle is perhaps not totally convincing, but to be fair the previous episodes were fine to play up the cynicism in return for giving up a bit of realism. The plot plays out quite nicely, although it must be said that the show does benefit from only having 4 episodes and not the longer run that the US version has.

Outside of this, the series does rather repeat the model of the previous serial in that it places a young woman in FU's circle, sees an influential Afro-Caribbean woman playing a key role and also has a vulnerable male press role. It does have a certain familiarity to it, although mostly it does work on its own rights. The various plot twists and turns do not always convince; in particular the frequent bombings and the fate of some characters and devices go a little further than fits even the internal logic, but these are held together by the consistent spirit of meanness it has. A big part of that is Richardson's performance, which is attractive while also being repellant – much like his to-camera discussions which challenge the viewer to judge him. Equally good are Kitchen, Aldridge, King, and Farrrell – albeit that they have shadows of the previous series in their characters. Jeavons plays it well so that he builds from his position gradually and in a way that makes sense.

Generally the series works well because of how nicely scripted it is with a cynicism that applies across the political spectrum of all those involved. This is delivered with a certain drollness and a narrative that engages even if aspects of it feel repeated from the previous series.

This mini-series is the second in the three adapted by Andrew Davies from Michael Dobbie's books. It is less of a romp than the first, `House of Cards', in which Francis Urquhart (Ian Richardson) gets to the top of the slippery pole by various underhand means; in fact he is now secure as prime minister and leader of the conservative party. He has, however, a problem with the king, a Prince Charles-type figure, who is not prepared to be a mere figurehead but aspires to be the conscience of the nation. This of course simply will not do and Francis and the king are soon on a collision course. The result is inevitable, and once again `F U' leaves bodies in his wake.

The king's angst is wonderfully realised by Michael Keaton, though he does seem a bit intelligent for a member of the present British royal family. Again, the supporting actors are delightful, with Colin Jeavons, the man born to play Uriah Heep, creepily unctious and then coldly furious as Stamper the Whip, who Francis rejects for higher office. Diane Fletcher as Elizabeth Urquhart continues smoothly in her Lady Macbeth role and there are some great clown characters such as the two princesses (not a million miles from Diana and Fergie) and the gallant Sir Bruce, editor of the `Daily Muckracker,' played with boozy enthusiasm by David Ryall.

Towards the end the show weakens a bit, and the final explosions are rather contrived. It is interesting, though, how an able, ruthless character like `F U' attracts supporters – there are plenty of people more than happy to carry out his orders, like Corder, his security man (Nick Brimble). The King, on the other hand, is supported by nice people, but like him, they become victims.

The relationship between hereditary monarch and elected prime minister is an important one, and Dobbie has to be commended for drawing attention to it; his bleak conclusion is that the King, who once could do no wrong, can now do no good. That's a pity, for someone needs to exercise some supervision over the `F U's' of this world. Once again, this is good entertainment, if not such a romp as the first series.

There is much more drama here, much deeper character development and, of course, the whole story has a whole new depth than that of its predecessor 'House of Cards', which everyone seems to prefer. That was mostly humorous, very light entertainment.

I found this one far more rewarding due to the above. Gone was the inevitability and lack of challenge of 'H.O.C.'. Here the main character has to plum to real depths to achieve his aims.

Onto the gripes: Primarily, the pacing is a real problem. It struck me that the first three episodes were little more than exposition, establishing the situations of the story, a three-hour Act One. Nothing really happens, story-wise, until the final episode.

The presentation of the homeless was at times a little trite, although it was amusing to confirm my suspicions about Emma Bunton's acting skills.

I did not find the ending forced at all. In fact, the means are far more convincing and difficult to pull off than any of the maneuverings of 'H.O.C.'

What carries this serial through really is the relationship between Urquhart and Harding. Although clearly an echo of that of with Storrin in 'H.O.C', it does not seem out of place; here is something with strange, emotional, dark and disturbing undertones.