This article was originally published in The Dundee Courier on 22 August 2015.
Sean
Connery: In His Own Words: Tuesday,
BBC Two
The
Scandalous Lady W: Monday,
BBC Two
Paul
Whitelaw
Sean Connery is a dazzling human
being. This much I learned from Sean Connery: In His Own Words,
a cheekily titled hagiography in which the great man's own words were
culled entirely from archive interviews.
Having retired several years ago,
Connery, who turns 85 this week, clearly had no interest in
contributing to this affectionate documentary. Fortunately, an
awe-struck procession of celebrity friends and fans, including Jackie
Stewart, Terry Gilliam, George Lucas and Robert Carlyle, were
available to pay gushing man-crush tribute.
His absence at times made it feel
like a eulogy. But his immense charisma hogged the limelight via
several well-chosen clips of him in action, both as an actor and
interviewee.
Arguably one of the greatest post-war
screen stars, Connery's sheer presence is inarguable. He commanded
attention without ever seeming to consciously steal a scene. Though
often mocked for never dropping his Edinburgh accent regardless of
his character's nationality, Connery at his best was always
authentic. As Gilliam observed: “When you hire Sean Connery, you
want Sean Connery to turn up.”
The programme looked beyond Bond to
remind us of Connery's oft overlooked merits as an intelligent actor
who, in the late 1960s and 1970s especially, defied typecasting with
hard-hitting projects such as The Hill and The Offence.
It also suggested that, despite his alpha-male image, the private
Connery is a rather thoughtful and articulate, even gentle, soul with
a commendable lack of vanity.
Clearly he adores his homeland. Rare
extracts from a self-directed 1960s documentary about the decline of
Scotland's shipyards indicated that, even while in the bosom of
Hollywood, Connery never severed ties with his working-class roots.
We were also reminded that he only made Diamonds Are Forever,
his final official hurrah as Bond, on the condition that his
gargantuan fee was ploughed into establishing the Scottish
International Education Trust. Whatta guy.
Even I, a born cynic, was saluting
Big Tam by the end of this deftly crafted celebration. If tomorrow he
formed a dangerous cult, I'd probably join. Never underestimate the
magnetic pull of twinkling charisma.
A prissy, mannered, standalone period
drama,The Scandalous Lady W scored a worthwhile point in
dreary style. Set in the late 18th century, it told the
potentially interesting true story of Seymour, Lady Worsley, who took
the scalding step of leaving her husband to elope with his best
friend.
This was an era when a man's wife was
thought of as his property; to leave him was akin to a field gaining
sentience and declaring itself a village.
The madness of this attitude was
tackled resolutely, but as a drama, for all its good intentions, The
Scandalous Lady W was far too arid. It was a chamber piece in the
most cloistered, stuffy sense: a procession of powdered wigs tilting
dutifully at each other.
Natalie Dormer from Game of
Thrones fluttered and jutted her way through what should have
been, by rights, a powerful feminist polemic. Instead it unfurled
into stilted farce.
Laughable insult was added to
harrowing injury once you clocked that the splendidly named Aneurin
Barnard as Lady W's lover was, with his tousled mop and red frock
coat, the absolute spitting image of Pete Doherty. What a waste.
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