This article was originally published in The Courier on 23rd May 2015.
Jonathan
Strange & Mr Norrell: Sunday,
BBC One
1864:
Saturday, BBC Four
Paul
Whitelaw
Based on the acclaimed fantasy novel
by Susanna Clarke, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is an
intriguing curio. With its generous budget, redoubtable cast of
character actors and pseudo-Grimm production design, it's like a trad
BBC period drama hijacked by the wild imaginings of Terry Gilliam.
I applaud its ambition. But does it
work? I'm not entirely convinced, at least not yet.
I haven't read the book, as I have an
incurable blind-spot when it comes to printed fiction, but I'm aware
that it's a dense, digressive tome crammed with footnotes. So I don't
envy Doctor Who writer Peter Harness in adapting such an
unwieldy work for the screen.
He's been tasked with condensing
masses of material into accessible 60 minute chunks, hence why
episode one felt oddly disjointed. Like a muddled conjuring trick,
the focus shifted constantly. A character who drove the plot in act
one later disappeared. Hapless co-protagonist Jonathan Strange wasn't
introduced until halfway through, and appeared only fitfully after
that. The sudden, and rather silly, arrival of Marc Warren as a
demonic Billy Idol with the voice of John Hurt felt like one jolt of
whimsy too many.
It's frustrating, as the premise and
world are arresting: set in 19th century England during
the Industrial Revolution and Napoleonic wars, it posits an
alternative history where magic actually existed. No one had
practised the craft for 300 years, until serious-minded artisan Mr
Norrell – a wonderfully discomfited performance from Eddie Marsan –
revealed his God-like skills to an impotent guild of “theoretical
magicians”.
An instant sensation, he was whisked
from Yorkshire to London, where, much to his chagrin, he was
regarded, not as a rarefied craftsman, but as an amusing novelty.
That is, until he offered to revive the dead wife of a prominent
politician...
Meanwhile, a straggle-haired street
magician (Paul “Dennis Pennis” Kaye on OTT form) mumbled ominous
prophecies about the emergence of two magicians, one of whom will use
his powers for good, the other for evil. A breathless set-up, but it
got there in the end.
Harness worked hard to slot these
pieces into place, and eventually the themes of snobbery, hypocrisy,
morality, greed and art vs commerce had more or less coalesced.
Despite my reservations, there's a
lot here to admire. The cast, including the ever-reliable Vincent
Franklin as a camp, solicitous Norrell groupie, are superb, Harness'
dialogue is droll, and Norrell's occasional displays of magic –
e.g. the striking scene in which he brought York Minster's statues to
life – are achieved using an eerily effective combination of CG and
stop-motion animation.
So far it casts an uneven spell, but
the potential is there.
Meanwhile, over in 19th
century Denmark, magic is thin on the ground in 1864.
A self-consciously epic saga about
the Danish/Prussian war, it's well-acted, beautifully shot, and full
of noble intentions. But the central storyline involving two
war-bound brothers in love with the same woman is familiar to the
point of self-parody, and the device of using scenes set in the
present day – in which a troubled teenage girl learns about the war
from an elderly, faded aristocrat – is clumsy and patronising.
And how's this for a piece of
awkward, laughable exposition?
MAN #1: “I forget your name, remind
me.”
MAN #2: “Bismarck. Otto von
Bismarck.”
Ouch. I swear I'm still deaf from my
internal Q.I. buzzer.
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