What a shame. I was really getting to grips with Tess of the D'Urbervilles, the BBC's latest period drama offering. Episode One was a bit bland and iffy. Episode Two was a comparative cracker. Episode Three stalled. Badly.
I'm trying to work out whether I found this particular quarter of Hardy's novel similarly dull and inspiring. But no. I always remember being gripped by Tess and Angel's brief 'honeymoon' at the creepy old D'Urberville mansion. And overwhelmed with fury at Angel's callous priggishness.
In this production, I found these scenes oddly lifeless. It's not for want of trying on the part of Gemma Arterton's Tess. She really does pucker up her bottom lip nicely, and her large, soulful eyes glow with fearful sorrow. Having thought Eddie Redmayne made for a decent enough Angel Clare in Episode Two, I was now forced into second thoughts. His entire demeanour was wooden, his voice flat and unemotional. To my surprise, I found myself hankering for Oliver Milburn's performance in ITV's 1998 version of Hardy's epic.
Tess's gruelling farm-work was also well-portrayed in the 1998 ITV version; genuinely resonant of hardship and suffering. You could see why Alex's offer to take Tess away from the grime and misery of peasant life was so inviting?
Which perhaps points to the main difficulty I am having with this piece right now. The BBC prides itself on authentic period drama, but has shied away from any semblance of the grit and grime which would have besmirched daily rural life at this time.
We need a real sense of Tess's sufferings here. And I'm just not getting it.
Hopefully things will pick up in next week's final episode. I'll post a fuller review then.
Showing posts with label Eddie Redmayne. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Eddie Redmayne. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Tess perks up for Episode Two
The second episode of the BBC's Tess of the D'Urbervilles was a marked improvement on the first. Good, solid performances all-round - especially from Gemma Arterton as Tess - and lush production values, basking in the luxuriant glow of Sunday-friendly BBC period drama in full throttle.
There was a sweeping range of emotions on offer in this single hour; from heart-felt tragedy when Tess's baby dies, (as a mother of a baby myself, I found the scene where Tess, dry-eyed with grief, holds her baby's corpse, especially hard to bear), through to the radiant sappiness of young love, when Tess and Angel Clare fall head over heels for one another.
Particularly enjoyable was Angel Clare's visit home, to his God-fearing family; bastions of middle-class Victorian respectability, the lot of them. Angel's feistiness in the face of avuncular adversity, was pleasantly evinced by Eddie Redmayne.
As her happiness grew, Arterton's Tess also became increasingly fearful that her soiled past would rise up and derail her current happiness. Her tension was well-played, skilfully infecting the tenor of the piece. Even for those who have not read the novel, the moment Tess allows her letter to Clare, announcing the truth about her 'impure' past, to flutter from her hands, into an open fire, we are left with a sense of forboding - which augurs well for Episode Three.
This is not vintage BBC adaptation. It fails to scale the heights of former glories such as Cranford, Bleak House or Pride & Prejudice. But it is solid fare; competent, presentable, heritage drama, offering little new or challenging in its reading of Hardy's novel. I suspect it will be pretty forgettable, but it is pleasant enough viewing for now.
There was a sweeping range of emotions on offer in this single hour; from heart-felt tragedy when Tess's baby dies, (as a mother of a baby myself, I found the scene where Tess, dry-eyed with grief, holds her baby's corpse, especially hard to bear), through to the radiant sappiness of young love, when Tess and Angel Clare fall head over heels for one another.
Particularly enjoyable was Angel Clare's visit home, to his God-fearing family; bastions of middle-class Victorian respectability, the lot of them. Angel's feistiness in the face of avuncular adversity, was pleasantly evinced by Eddie Redmayne.
As her happiness grew, Arterton's Tess also became increasingly fearful that her soiled past would rise up and derail her current happiness. Her tension was well-played, skilfully infecting the tenor of the piece. Even for those who have not read the novel, the moment Tess allows her letter to Clare, announcing the truth about her 'impure' past, to flutter from her hands, into an open fire, we are left with a sense of forboding - which augurs well for Episode Three.
This is not vintage BBC adaptation. It fails to scale the heights of former glories such as Cranford, Bleak House or Pride & Prejudice. But it is solid fare; competent, presentable, heritage drama, offering little new or challenging in its reading of Hardy's novel. I suspect it will be pretty forgettable, but it is pleasant enough viewing for now.
Monday, September 15, 2008
BBC's Tess proves a turgid tale
As is increasingly the case in the field of text-to-screen adaptation, former adapted works often come to dominate and haunt their successors.
In the case of Thomas Hardy's many works (frequently adapted for film and TV), there have been two definitive Hardy adaptations which overshadow any subsequent attempts to capture the essence of Hardy's rustic melodramas. Both are films: Roman Polanski's 1979 version of Tess, starring a luminous Nastassja Kinski, and John Schlesinger's 1967 Far From the Madding Crowd, offering stellar performances from Julie Christie (Bathsheba Everdene), Alan Bates (Gabriel Oak), Terence Stamp (Sgt. Troy) and Peter Finch (Farmer Boldwood).
Both novels have also been adapted for TV - most recently, Tess in 1998 for ITV, starring Justine Waddell as the tragic heroine, and Far From the Madding Crowd, also in 1998, and again for ITV, with Paloma Baeza in the starring role, supported by Nathaniel Hawthorne as Oak and Jonathan Firth as Sgt. Troy.
The BBC has not been a notable Hardy-adaptor, hence last night's Tess of the D'Urbervilles, written by David Nichols and directed by David Blair, was a fairly unusual venture. The mini-series has been much-heralded, in part because of the latest Brit-IT girl of the silver screen and new Bond Girl, Gemma Arterton, taking on the central role.
In the circumstances, Gemma does fine - although her West country accent grates a little. She makes for a very pretty Tess with a delightful pout - one which even Keira Knightley would be proud of.
And the production is determinedly pretty too, with some lovely landscapes serving as a pleasant backdrop to the increasingly tragic events unfolding before us.
But I still can't shake off the nagging thought that this is BBC Adaptation-by-Numbers: albeit slick, smart, and well-presented.
There are a few pleasant touches. The episode opens and closes with country girls dancing in a circle, symbolising ancient fertility rites, celebrating youthful innocence. Tess is one of the dancers at the opening of the episode, but is excluded by its close, as she is now an unwed mother.
There is also a strong showing from Ian Puleston-Davies as Tess's father John, whose delusions regarding their heritage as descendants of the ancient landed family of the D'Urbervilles, prove to be the catalyst, launching Tess into her own personal tragedy.
We catch an early glimpse of Angel Clare (Eddie Redmayne), Tess's later love, and have prolonged exposure to the amoral cad Alec d'Urberville, played here with weary insouciance by Hans Matheson. Alec entices Tess to his country pile, ostensibly to help out his 'relation', but he has nefarious plans in store for her. He eventually rapes Tess, thus destroying her future.
In truth, however, what should be compelling, atmospheric and prescient, winds up a little perfunctory and disinterested.
Undoubtedly, the BBC is the driving force behind classic screen adaptation for TV. But in this instance, the ITV production of Tess, first broadcast in 1998, is the superior version. Of course, only one episode of the BBC's Tess has been aired, and there are three more episodes to persuade me otherwise.
Even so, I cannot imagine how the BBC's Tess will ever live up to Polanski's Tess, which is deserving of the accolades and fond remembrances lavished on it.
In the case of Thomas Hardy's many works (frequently adapted for film and TV), there have been two definitive Hardy adaptations which overshadow any subsequent attempts to capture the essence of Hardy's rustic melodramas. Both are films: Roman Polanski's 1979 version of Tess, starring a luminous Nastassja Kinski, and John Schlesinger's 1967 Far From the Madding Crowd, offering stellar performances from Julie Christie (Bathsheba Everdene), Alan Bates (Gabriel Oak), Terence Stamp (Sgt. Troy) and Peter Finch (Farmer Boldwood).
Both novels have also been adapted for TV - most recently, Tess in 1998 for ITV, starring Justine Waddell as the tragic heroine, and Far From the Madding Crowd, also in 1998, and again for ITV, with Paloma Baeza in the starring role, supported by Nathaniel Hawthorne as Oak and Jonathan Firth as Sgt. Troy.
The BBC has not been a notable Hardy-adaptor, hence last night's Tess of the D'Urbervilles, written by David Nichols and directed by David Blair, was a fairly unusual venture. The mini-series has been much-heralded, in part because of the latest Brit-IT girl of the silver screen and new Bond Girl, Gemma Arterton, taking on the central role.
In the circumstances, Gemma does fine - although her West country accent grates a little. She makes for a very pretty Tess with a delightful pout - one which even Keira Knightley would be proud of.
And the production is determinedly pretty too, with some lovely landscapes serving as a pleasant backdrop to the increasingly tragic events unfolding before us.
But I still can't shake off the nagging thought that this is BBC Adaptation-by-Numbers: albeit slick, smart, and well-presented.
There are a few pleasant touches. The episode opens and closes with country girls dancing in a circle, symbolising ancient fertility rites, celebrating youthful innocence. Tess is one of the dancers at the opening of the episode, but is excluded by its close, as she is now an unwed mother.
There is also a strong showing from Ian Puleston-Davies as Tess's father John, whose delusions regarding their heritage as descendants of the ancient landed family of the D'Urbervilles, prove to be the catalyst, launching Tess into her own personal tragedy.
We catch an early glimpse of Angel Clare (Eddie Redmayne), Tess's later love, and have prolonged exposure to the amoral cad Alec d'Urberville, played here with weary insouciance by Hans Matheson. Alec entices Tess to his country pile, ostensibly to help out his 'relation', but he has nefarious plans in store for her. He eventually rapes Tess, thus destroying her future.
In truth, however, what should be compelling, atmospheric and prescient, winds up a little perfunctory and disinterested.
Undoubtedly, the BBC is the driving force behind classic screen adaptation for TV. But in this instance, the ITV production of Tess, first broadcast in 1998, is the superior version. Of course, only one episode of the BBC's Tess has been aired, and there are three more episodes to persuade me otherwise.
Even so, I cannot imagine how the BBC's Tess will ever live up to Polanski's Tess, which is deserving of the accolades and fond remembrances lavished on it.
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