Cranford casting news

According to www.tmcnet.com, Eileen Atkins, Michael Gambon, Lesley Manville, Alex Etel and Andrew Buchan (a big favourite on this blog!) have been cast in the BBC's forthcoming adaptation of Gaskell's Cranford Chronicles. (Thanks for the anonymous tip on this one, BTW).

And another one bites the dust ...

... Or at least it feels that way. Party Animals, penned by Ben Richards, concluded last night, amidst minimal fanfare, which has been the way with this under-sung TV drama. I hope it gets a second series, although with only 1.2m viewers last night, I'm not hopeful.

This was yet another top quality BBC drama which I fear will bite the dust. We recently had it confirmed that the marvellous Lilies, written by the acclaimed and talented Heidi Thomas, has been prematurely given the chop - reportedly because it didn't attract the "right sort" of viewer and because the BBC wants to make way for 'New Drama' (go figure). Last year we had the highly entertaining Sally Wainwright drama The Amazing Mrs Pritchard, which the BBC canned because of lacklustre ratings.

In both cases, the series closed with loose ends, and a major cliffhanger in the case of The Amazing Mrs Pritchard - and a lot of fans have thus demanded resolution, most especially in the case of Lilies. The BBC Lilies web site has been literally inundated with hundreds of heartfelt demands for a second series - all ignored. Obviously demands from the wrong sort of audience fall on deaf ears at the BBC which is increasingly (and worryingly) preoccupied with ratings it seems, and facing off ITV - which is not why we pay the BBC vast sums of money via our license fees. I honestly believe the BBC never intended to renew Lilies, based on the shoddy promotion and poor scheduling the show received. Perhaps it wasn't seen as cool and 'yoof' enough to share the same BBC branding as the 'hallowed' likes of Doctor Who, Torchwood and the inexecrable Robin Hood. Perhaps if Lilies had been set in a hospital, and starred yet another bleedin' police detective with slightly maverick tendencies and a drink problem, as seems to dominate British TV output these days, it would have stood a better chance.

Party Animals suffered a similar fate to Lilies in the sense that advertising for the show was minimal. Yes, ratings have been poor, but little has been done to boost them. This was a quality drama with some very strong acting performances - this blogger has already raved Andrew Buchan, and deservedly so. Such a fine actor! And like many admirers of the show no doubt, I'm dying to know if Scott and Ashika are ever going to put aside their 'party' differences and kiss and make up.

If anyone learns of Party Animal's fate in the hands of the BBC commissioners, don't hesitate to tell - I'm eager to know, and hope that the news is good. The BBC simply can't keep dropping it's quality dramas, leaving us with the dross and drivel of so much of the populist formulaic crap currently being foisted onto our TV screens.

Party Animals proves to be a beast of the show

I realise this might sound like sacriliege, but I'm already half-sick of the ITV Austen Season, set to launch next Sunday (18th). I'm fiendishly into TV 'originals' right now. A quick scan of my blog in recent weeks reveals how much I loved the BBC's Lilies - well, another BBC series, Party Animals, is also getting a big thumbs up from me too. This little-promoted, poorly scheduled BBC 2 drama (Weds, 9.00pm) about young 'politicos' in Westminster Village, was a little bit of a slow starter, but has graduated to one of my favourite TV series of all time. This is in no small part because of the staggeringly good acting performances: Andrew Buchan as Scott, a world-weary lobbyist, is simply fantastic - one of the best young actors I have ever seen. Also good is Matt Smith as his idealistic brother Danny - a great improvement here on Smith's risible cockney chappie 'Jim' in the dire Ruby in the Smoke adaptation, aired on the BBC over Christmas.

For the record that starred Billie Piper, as a woefully miscast Victorian lass, and it looks likely that Piper has been badly drawn again in next week's Mansfield Park, if early previews are anything to go by. Grab a gander at BBC's Newsnight Review programme (broadcast last Friday) for a unanimous thumbs down for ITV's Mansfield Park, which the reviewers felt had been targeted at teenagers. So all the darkness and subtlety of Austen's original sounds to have been dashed in the race for ratings ... except if Mansfield Park flops (and I fear it might) then this augurs poorly for the remainder of the season - Northanger Abbey and Persuasion (in that order). The Newsnight reviewers liked Northanger Abbey as much as they disliked Mansfield Park, so perhaps that's more promising. I rather liked the clip they showed of Catherine Morland indulging in a secret Gothic-inspired erotic fantasy whilst bathing ... very Andrew Davies, and most unlike Jane Austen. But I'm not one for 'fidelity' for fidelity's sake. Better just make a darned good film - and Davies does have a singular knack for sexing up his classics, so I can hardly pretend surprise that he has engineered sweet, innocent little Catherine Morland stepping naked from a bath into the arms of Henry Tilney. I kind of admire his cheek. And I'm always a sucker for a surreal dream-sequence - whatever the genre ...

Back to Party Animals. This has been a superb series and it is truly sad that it is unlikely, with risible ratings last Wednesday of just ONE MILLION, to secure a second series. This is so frustrating and begs the question how this could happen. Two reasons: a) the BBC has cocked-up big time with poor promotion and scheduling and b) the Great British Public never tuned in because it is hard to get excited about a show you've never heard of. OK it might also be because the political underpinnings of the programme left them stone-cold ... and opening reviews were a little less than fantastic. Such a shame because this show is a true grower. It's greatest flaw is its heroine Ashika (Shelley Conn), who is almost too perfect, an 'Ashika-Sue' if you will. Even so, she is highly likeable. Less likeable but fantastically acted is devilishly clever but emotionally dishevelled (and drunk) Home Office minister Jo Portman (Raquel Cassidy). I won't go into plot details in the hope that this series gets a repeat sometime soon. Suffice to say, it is excellent viewing, undersung by a BBC which seems hellbent on promoting dire dull drivel, the likes of Castaway and Casualty.

Review: Jane Eyre, BBC1 - Episode Four

REVIEW: JANE EYRE 4/4, CHARLOTTE BRONTE, BBC 1, 2006

The final episode of the BBC's Jane Eyre was a decidedly mixed bag and rounds off a similarly mixed, though enjoyable series. We have had strong acting performances and lush cinematographic delights but also a stolid, rather uninspiring interpretation of Charlotte Bronte's classic novel and at times, a far from dazzling display of directorial imagination from Susanna White, who promised so much with last year's triumphant Bleak House.

Here White clearly felt it necessary to spice up what is generally perceived to be the dullest passage of events in the novel, at the Rivers household, with a fractured, non-linear narrative, utilising multiple flashbacks, which strive to keep Rochester on-screen for as long as possible without destabilising narrative coherence. Unfortunately the Rochester/Jane chemistry failed to sizzle, despite (and perhaps because of) extraordinarily determined efforts to ramp up their sexual connection. Indeed, there were admittedly a few too many moments in this final episode where my eyes strayed to the remote control and I had to bravely resist the very real attraction of Prime Suspect, the excellent crime drama, which was airing on ITV.

This was not the worst episode of the series. That rather dubious honour falls to the opener, which brushed aside much of Jane's childhood, in its unseemly haste to get to the 'action' - the central romance between Jane and Rochester. After the myriad media and PR articles I've waded through regarding this adaptation, I've come to the conclusion that BBC producers were all too desperate to recreate the famous 'Darcy' effect of 1995's superb (and superior) Pride and Prejudice, positioning Rochester as the ultimate Romantic Hero. To some extent this has worked, judging by comments circulating on the Internet, and indeed an extremely swooning conversation I overheard between three ladies in a restaurant on Saturday, which was bordering on fanatical stalker-mode - Toby Stephens beware! But Colin Firth's crown as king of the 'Classic' romance has not been truly dislodged here - barely even struck a mildly glancing blow, if last night's romantic denouement was anything to go by.

Indeed, the high point of both the series and the central couple's 'chemistry' occured early in Episode Two, soon after Jane rescued Rochester from a potential fiery grave in his own bedchamber. And in truth, the best of the pair has been epitomised by their teasing verbal exchanges, expressing a meeting of minds, rather than those scenes deadset on emphasising their passionate physical proximity. Late in Episode Four, Rochester tells Jane they are not the sort to be 'platonic'. Sorry, but no. Not in this reviewer's opinion at any rate.

And there is evidence a-plenty in this episode where flashbacks, bathed in the unsubtle glow of 'sexy' red light, depict Rochester clumsily astride Jane, muttering sweet nothings while caressing her neck. Frankly I was relieved when these flashbacks faded to the blue-toned reality of Jane's present life with the Rivers. Jane sobs in frustration and grief at losing her past life and love. In this sense, the flashbacks served a purpose in bolstering narrative momentum, but otherwise I found them embarrassing and a little unnecessary (and most certainly not as a point of 'prudishness').

For me the problem was Rochester - well, Toby Stephens - who suddenly, most unexpectedly, struck me as LESS Rochester, and so very, very 'TOBY-ish' with his inimitable talent for super-fine, snarky lip-curling. This was all the more unaccountable, as Toby was far from any lip-curling antics in his current impassioned, loved-up state - and to be fair, this was the first time I had found myself recalling his more intertextual qualities since, well, Episode One - which surely says alot in favour of his portrayal of Rochester for most of the series at any rate.

Less jarring were the flashbacks which depicted Jane's aborted wedding: the bible falling to the ground as the news is broken in church; Jane in her wedding regalia running upstairs at Thornfield leaving a trail of crushed, soft, white petals from her posy; and her departure from Thornfield - although this was slightly marred by her catching sight of the red scarf wafting from a window in the North Tower, which has been deployed as a rather over-done metaphor for Bertha's presence throughout the series. Jane also appeared to emulate aspects of Bertha in this episode, as she too is seen to watch from a lead-latticed window at the Rivers household - perhaps signifying that a marriage to St. John Rivers would be a similar incarceration, a confinement of her free spirit.

Having said that, I thoroughly enjoyed the scenes with the Rivers - far more than the supposed dramatic clinchers featuring Rochester. Having rescued Jane from her destitute, near-death state on bleak, isolated moorland, (a scene mildly reminiscent of the opening of Episode One with a young Jane wandering through a desert), the Rivers family are portrayed here with bustling comfort - apart from St. John, played admirably well here by Andrew Buchan, who is a darker, stiller presence compared to his lively sisters Diana and Mary.

Indeed, Buchan has proved to be one of the stand-out performers of the entire series. St. John's exchanges with Jane make no attempt to 'electrify' and are consequently more natural and realistic in tone, eliciting excellent performances and a heartfelt, friendly repartee from both Buchan and Ruth Wilson (Jane). We have a powerful sense of St. John as a fundamentally good man; a man, who Jane informs him in a forthright manner, 'trembles' when Miss Oliver (who he is in love with) enters the room, while he himself admits that his 'skin may burn with fever' but he is a cold man, controlled by his puritanical zeal to pursue Godly works.

He emerges as a strongly sympathetic character - perhaps more so than Bronte herself intended - and the scene where he informs Jane of her new-found fortune and relations (himself and his sisters) was the best of the entire episode. Jane's unbridled joy is delightful, infectious ... but we never doubt the sagacity of her decision not to marry St. John. This is distinctly unlike the (perhaps) woefully miscast St. John Rivers of the 1997 ITV series of Jane Eyre, where the delectable Rupert Penry-Jones was rejected in favour of a decidedly unappealing Rochester, played here by the usually formidable Ciaran Hinds.

Jane contemplates her decision, her life, her continuing desire for Rochester, atop a precariously high rocky escarpment, set amidst gloriously bleak and wild Derbyshire countryside - a scene strangely reminiscent of a more recent Pride and Prejudice outing, the 2005 film, where Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet stands perilously aloft a vertiginously steep cliff-face, overlooking similar Romanticised scenery, gusting eddies of wind threatening to dash her to her doom at any given moment. Ironically, this scene was often described by critics as a little too Brontean for an Austen adaptation - and yet here we have a definitive Bronte adaptation appearing to emulate an Austen.

Back at Thornfield (her decision made off-screen), we have a disconsolate Jane eyeing a woefully burned pile of ruins and in flashback she is told the sad tale of Bertha's demise and the fire that destroyed Rochester's home. Oddly, given the highly dramatic source material, these scenes are determinedly dull and underwhelming. Bertha, clad in a voluminous white night-gown trails a flaming wedding dress (oh, the symbolism) along a shadowy corridor. Then, half-heartedly pursued by Rochester, whose face is expressive more of mild peevishness than stark panic in spite of the circumstances, she flings herself from the castle battlements. Her descent is matched by the soaring fall, then flight, of a white barn-owl, before the camera reveals her prostrate form on the ground below, arms outstretched, face down. The scene is clunkily-crafted and fails to excite.

Jane is next seen wandering through a misty forest complete with tall, dark trees and vaguely creepy music, but ... all is well. We encounter a pleasant limestone house now occupied by a limping, blind Rochester. Jane brings him a tray of tea-things and then combs his hair, much in the manner of a nursemaid attending to her patient in a retirement home. The effect is stultifying, even chilling, so it is not a surprise when Rochester swiftly and earnestly begs for a wife instead, much to Jane's smirking pleasure.

They embrace, kiss, hold each other, and the camera pans to the fast-flowing river, symbolic (presumably) of the passing of time as we next see them, children in tow, and the Rivers in attendance, preparing a family portrait sitting. They are to be painted amidst an ordered, manicured garden, with a sedate red-brick house, a far cry from the Gothic, ruggedly masculine splendours of Thornfield, serving as a backdrop to their pleasant party. There is a final 'framing' of this parting shot with a slightly tacky floral border - perhaps a heavy-handed symbolic signifier that Jane's 'feminine' has finally exerted control, she has mastered her own narrative, and Rochester has been tamed into Victorian domesticana.

See Reviews of Jane Eyre: Episodes 1, 2 and 3. Also Wide Sargasso Sea.

NOTE - this review is repeated below, without the title, as for some strange and inexplicable reason I have been informed that some readers cannot access this review WITH the title included (??? ... beats me) - so apologies for the 'double' post in this instance. 'Gallivant.'

The final episode of the BBC's Jane Eyre was a decidedly mixed bag and rounds off a similarly mixed, though enjoyable series. We have had strong acting performances and lush cinematographic delights but also a stolid, rather uninspiring interpretation of Charlotte Bronte's classic novel and at times, a far from dazzling display of directorial imagination from Susanna White, who promised so much with last year's triumphant Bleak House.

Here White clearly felt it necessary to spice up what is generally perceived to be the dullest passage of events in the novel, at the Rivers household, with a fractured, non-linear narrative, utilising multiple flashbacks, which strive to keep Rochester on-screen for as long as possible without destabilising narrative coherence. Unfortunately the Rochester/Jane chemistry failed to sizzle, despite (and perhaps because of) extraordinarily determined efforts to ramp up their sexual connection. Indeed, there were admittedly a few too many moments in this final episode where my eyes strayed to the remote control and I had to bravely resist the very real attraction of Prime Suspect, the excellent crime drama, which was airing on ITV.

This was not the worst episode of the series. That rather dubious honour falls to the opener, which brushed aside much of Jane's childhood, in its unseemly haste to get to the 'action' - the central romance between Jane and Rochester. After the myriad media and PR articles I've waded through regarding this adaptation, I've come to the conclusion that BBC producers were all too desperate to recreate the famous 'Darcy' effect of 1995's superb (and superior) Pride and Prejudice, positioning Rochester as the ultimate Romantic Hero. To some extent this has worked, judging by comments circulating on the Internet, and indeed an extremely swooning conversation I overheard between three ladies in a restaurant on Saturday, which was bordering on fanatical stalker-mode - Toby Stephens beware! But Colin Firth's crown as king of the 'Classic' romance has not been truly dislodged here - barely even struck a mildly glancing blow, if last night's romantic denouement was anything to go by.

Indeed, the high point of both the series and the central couple's 'chemistry' occured early in Episode Two, soon after Jane rescued Rochester from a potential fiery grave in his own bedchamber. And in truth, the best of the pair has been epitomised by their teasing verbal exchanges, expressing a meeting of minds, rather than those scenes deadset on emphasising their passionate physical proximity. Late in Episode Four, Rochester tells Jane they are not the sort to be 'platonic'. Sorry, but no. Not in this reviewer's opinion at any rate.

And there is evidence a-plenty in this episode where flashbacks, bathed in the unsubtle glow of 'sexy' red light, depict Rochester clumsily astride Jane, muttering sweet nothings while caressing her neck. Frankly I was relieved when these flashbacks faded to the blue-toned reality of Jane's present life with the Rivers. Jane sobs in frustration and grief at losing her past life and love. In this sense, the flashbacks served a purpose in bolstering narrative momentum, but otherwise I found them embarrassing and a little unnecessary (and most certainly not as a point of 'prudishness').

For me the problem was Rochester - well, Toby Stephens - who suddenly, most unexpectedly, struck me as LESS Rochester, and so very, very 'TOBY-ish' with his inimitable talent for super-fine, snarky lip-curling. This was all the more unaccountable, as Toby was far from any lip-curling antics in his current impassioned, loved-up state - and to be fair, this was the first time I had found myself recalling his more intertextual qualities since, well, Episode One - which surely says alot in favour of his portrayal of Rochester for most of the series at any rate.

Less jarring were the flashbacks which depicted Jane's aborted wedding: the bible falling to the ground as the news is broken in church; Jane in her wedding regalia running upstairs at Thornfield leaving a trail of crushed, soft, white petals from her posy; and her departure from Thornfield - although this was slightly marred by her catching sight of the red scarf wafting from a window in the North Tower, which has been deployed as a rather over-done metaphor for Bertha's presence throughout the series. Jane also appeared to emulate aspects of Bertha in this episode, as she too is seen to watch from a lead-latticed window at the Rivers household - perhaps signifying that a marriage to St. John Rivers would be a similar incarceration, a confinement of her free spirit.

Having said that, I thoroughly enjoyed the scenes with the Rivers - far more than the supposed dramatic clinchers featuring Rochester. Having rescued Jane from her destitute, near-death state on bleak, isolated moorland, (a scene mildly reminiscent of the opening of Episode One with a young Jane wandering through a desert), the Rivers family are portrayed here with bustling comfort - apart from St. John, played admirably well here by Andrew Buchan, who is a darker, stiller presence compared to his lively sisters Diana and Mary.

Indeed, Buchan has proved to be one of the stand-out performers of the entire series. St. John's exchanges with Jane make no attempt to 'electrify' and are consequently more natural and realistic in tone, eliciting excellent performances and a heartfelt, friendly repartee from both Buchan and Ruth Wilson (Jane). We have a powerful sense of St. John as a fundamentally good man; a man, who Jane informs him in a forthright manner, 'trembles' when Miss Oliver (who he is in love with) enters the room, while he himself admits that his 'skin may burn with fever' but he is a cold man, controlled by his puritanical zeal to pursue Godly works.

He emerges as a strongly sympathetic character - perhaps more so than Bronte herself intended - and the scene where he informs Jane of her new-found fortune and relations (himself and his sisters) was the best of the entire episode. Jane's unbridled joy is delightful, infectious ... but we never doubt the sagacity of her decision not to marry St. John. This is distinctly unlike the (perhaps) woefully miscast St. John Rivers of the 1997 ITV series of Jane Eyre, where the delectable Rupert Penry-Jones was rejected in favour of a decidedly unappealing Rochester, played here by the usually formidable Ciaran Hinds.

Jane contemplates her decision, her life, her continuing desire for Rochester, atop a precariously high rocky escarpment, set amidst gloriously bleak and wild Derbyshire countryside - a scene strangely reminiscent of a more recent Pride and Prejudice outing, the 2005 film, where Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet stands perilously aloft a vertiginously steep cliff-face, overlooking similar Romanticised scenery, gusting eddies of wind threatening to dash her to her doom at any given moment. Ironically, this scene was often described by critics as a little too Brontean for an Austen adaptation - and yet here we have a definitive Bronte adaptation appearing to emulate an Austen.

Back at Thornfield (her decision made off-screen), we have a disconsolate Jane eyeing a woefully burned pile of ruins and in flashback she is told the sad tale of Bertha's demise and the fire that destroyed Rochester's home. Oddly, given the highly dramatic source material, these scenes are determinedly dull and underwhelming. Bertha, clad in a voluminous white night-gown trails a flaming wedding dress (oh, the symbolism) along a shadowy corridor. Then, half-heartedly pursued by Rochester, whose face is expressive more of mild peevishness than stark panic in spite of the circumstances, she flings herself from the castle battlements. Her descent is matched by the soaring fall, then flight, of a white barn-owl, before the camera reveals her prostrate form on the ground below, arms outstretched, face down. The scene is clunkily-crafted and fails to excite.

Jane is next seen wandering through a misty forest complete with tall, dark trees and vaguely creepy music, but ... all is well. We encounter a pleasant limestone house now occupied by a limping, blind Rochester. Jane brings him a tray of tea-things and then combs his hair, much in the manner of a nursemaid attending to her patient in a retirement home. The effect is stultifying, even chilling, so it is not a surprise when Rochester swiftly and earnestly begs for a wife instead, much to Jane's smirking pleasure.

They embrace, kiss, hold each other, and the camera pans to the fast-flowing river, symbolic (presumably) of the passing of time as we next see them, children in tow, and the Rivers in attendance, preparing a family portrait sitting. They are to be painted amidst an ordered, manicured garden, with a sedate red-brick house, a far cry from the Gothic, ruggedly masculine splendours of Thornfield, serving as a backdrop to their pleasant party. There is a final 'framing' of this parting shot with a slightly tacky floral border - perhaps a heavy-handed symbolic signifier that Jane's 'feminine' has finally exerted control, she has mastered her own narrative, and Rochester has been tamed into Victorian domesticana.

See Reviews of Jane Eyre: Episodes 1, 2 and 3. Also Wide Sargasso Sea.