I eagerly anticipated this latest tv adaptation of "David Copperfield" as the BBC still have a reputation for quality drama. I was disappointed to find none of his magic tricks in the programme, like that time he made the Statue of Liberty vanish, but even so this was a very enjoyable three hours.
The 90s have seen the BBC come under increasing attack from a populace that resent its licence-funded nature in an era where its quality is questionable. As a result, a corporate desperation seems to have emerged, with cloned docusoaps and cookery programmes crammed into the schedules in an attempt to emulate previous successes. In 1995 the BBC had a huge, and unexpected, hit with their adaptation of "Pride and Prejudice". Almost a lightning flash in a jar, the chemistry between its two attractive leads cannot be manufactured, much, I imagine, to the BBC's chagrin. Nevertheless, the latter half of the 1990s has seen them consistently try, yet fail to realise that Charles Dickens is not the place to do it.
A huge book serialised in 64 monthly instalments over a two-year period, it was Dickens' own personal favourite out of all his novels. Yet the works of Dickens are never primarily romances and afford little opportunity for Colin Firth to wade in a lake wearing skin-tight leather briefs. So too are the works of Dickens almost baptisms of fire, a life cycle carried out on the page. The circular logic of television characterisation is almost wholly absent, where any number of roles will fit together in all manner of contrived ways. Dickens, in contrast, will introduce and discard his cast in much the same way life will leave old friends behind. So it is that Trevor Eve, who makes such a compelling presence in the first of this two-part adaptation is notable by his complete absence in the second. How very unlike television.
Yet what makes Dickens almost untranslatable for any medium save the page is the richness of the language. Away from the dialogue-compliant text of Jane Austen, Dickens attaches almost as much, if not more, importance to what goes between the lines than the lines themselves.
Thankfully, this serial does it better than most, and as Copperfield is written in first person, it makes it easy for a voiceover to be sincerely overlaid. Of course, historical design is something the BBC could do with their eyes shut, and their ability to create whole Victorian streets is impeccable. The mixture of established actors (including Sir Ian McKellen, excellent, and Bob Hoskins) with traditionally light entertainment performers (Dawn French, so-so, and Nicholas Lyndhurst, a revelation as the slimy Uriah Heep) pays off well, and only Ciaran McMenamin/Daniel Radcliffe struggle to imbue interest as the young/old Copperfield, ironically the least interesting character in the book.
And so it was with this that the BBC celebrated the passing of the 20th Century. The commercial channels pushed the "mindless, spirit-crushing gameshows" of Trainspotting at us for 24 hours, but the BBC finished Christmas evening with Citizen Kane, Kafka's The Trial and had "David Copperfield" as the centrepiece of it's festive celebrations. The new millennium may well see Britain's premier television station forced into being a commercial venture... it's nice to know that, for this century at least, they can still achieve greatness when they try.
The 90s have seen the BBC come under increasing attack from a populace that resent its licence-funded nature in an era where its quality is questionable. As a result, a corporate desperation seems to have emerged, with cloned docusoaps and cookery programmes crammed into the schedules in an attempt to emulate previous successes. In 1995 the BBC had a huge, and unexpected, hit with their adaptation of "Pride and Prejudice". Almost a lightning flash in a jar, the chemistry between its two attractive leads cannot be manufactured, much, I imagine, to the BBC's chagrin. Nevertheless, the latter half of the 1990s has seen them consistently try, yet fail to realise that Charles Dickens is not the place to do it.
A huge book serialised in 64 monthly instalments over a two-year period, it was Dickens' own personal favourite out of all his novels. Yet the works of Dickens are never primarily romances and afford little opportunity for Colin Firth to wade in a lake wearing skin-tight leather briefs. So too are the works of Dickens almost baptisms of fire, a life cycle carried out on the page. The circular logic of television characterisation is almost wholly absent, where any number of roles will fit together in all manner of contrived ways. Dickens, in contrast, will introduce and discard his cast in much the same way life will leave old friends behind. So it is that Trevor Eve, who makes such a compelling presence in the first of this two-part adaptation is notable by his complete absence in the second. How very unlike television.
Yet what makes Dickens almost untranslatable for any medium save the page is the richness of the language. Away from the dialogue-compliant text of Jane Austen, Dickens attaches almost as much, if not more, importance to what goes between the lines than the lines themselves.
Thankfully, this serial does it better than most, and as Copperfield is written in first person, it makes it easy for a voiceover to be sincerely overlaid. Of course, historical design is something the BBC could do with their eyes shut, and their ability to create whole Victorian streets is impeccable. The mixture of established actors (including Sir Ian McKellen, excellent, and Bob Hoskins) with traditionally light entertainment performers (Dawn French, so-so, and Nicholas Lyndhurst, a revelation as the slimy Uriah Heep) pays off well, and only Ciaran McMenamin/Daniel Radcliffe struggle to imbue interest as the young/old Copperfield, ironically the least interesting character in the book.
And so it was with this that the BBC celebrated the passing of the 20th Century. The commercial channels pushed the "mindless, spirit-crushing gameshows" of Trainspotting at us for 24 hours, but the BBC finished Christmas evening with Citizen Kane, Kafka's The Trial and had "David Copperfield" as the centrepiece of it's festive celebrations. The new millennium may well see Britain's premier television station forced into being a commercial venture... it's nice to know that, for this century at least, they can still achieve greatness when they try.