Oedipus the King (1986 TV Film)

 "Judge no man's life until he's dead!"

This is the first of three TV films made for the BBC, in 1986, of Sophocles' "Theban Plays", all both translated and directed by Don Taylor, known to this blog for being recently noted as a director in Dead of Night. The Theban plays are an odd beast, really. They were never intended as a sequence, all are quite unconnected, so this isn't like Aeschylus' Oresteia, a slightly earlier BBC version of which I blogged a while ago.

Anyway, there's a certain inherent awkwardness about this particular play, isn't there? More than any other Ancient Greek play, we all know the plot; we come pre-spoiled. And, well, it's icky. About as icky as plots come.

So the first half of the play consists of the slow unravelling of a mystery which, for us viewers, is already known. The total lack of dramatic irony is less of a problem than might be expected, though. The process of unravelling what happened- relying rather more on hearsay and soothsayers than anything we moderns may regard as proper policing- is entertaining. And we get to know Michael Pennington's assured and kingly Oedipus, confident in his own wisdom and cursing the criminal, with no idea of the sheer horror that is to befall him. Claire Bloom is superb as Jocasta, at first sceptical and then consumed with horror and denial of a truth too awful to contemplate. The great John Gielgud gets a nice little cameo.

But it's the last few scenes where things get unexpectedly intense. Because the words hammer home that Oedipus was always doomed, he never did have any agency. None of this is his fault: he did all he could to avoid the terrible prophecy. Yet fulfil it he did, and he must suffer. As the chorus says 'Ignorance made you happy; the truth has made you blind'. She here he is, a blind beggar, doomed to exile and misery, all waiting for him from the moment he was born. And it gets even worse, with Oedipus really doubling down on his own degradation, wishing he could lose his hearing as well as his sight and, perhaps worst of all, making it clear that he expects to remain blind in the underworld.

And the way this production, purposely stagy though it is, reveals Oedipus' blindness is... effective to say the least.

Yeah... that's dark. Is Sophocles always this dark? The next two plays will be interesting...

The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (1965)

"She offered me free love. At the time it was all I could afford.”

Wow. That was bleak. More so, in fact, than the BBC’s superb version of Le Carre’s Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy which I am certain to blog at some point. And that Richard Burton is awfully good at this acting lark.

I was twelve when the Wall came down; I remember the Cold War. But the world of half a century ago seems a strange place in many ways. The leading man can sneeringly refer to a “queer”, labour exchanges advertise “jobs for men” and even a bibulous fellow like myself raises an eyebrow at the sheer amount of alcohol consumed. And Nan refers to her Hungarian goulash with Portuguese wine as a “Communist dish with a totalitarian wine”; no one seems to regard the tyrannies of the Eastern Bloc and Salazar’s fascist state as equally vile. It’s all a game and, as Control says, while one side supports freedom and the other does not, the methods used by both sides are equally abhorrent. No wonder it’s so easy to become burnt out and turn to drink.

(“Control”- I now get certain sketches from A Bit of Fry and Laurie more than I did...)

This is a thriller, of sorts, but one uniquely suffused with a profound sense of moral disillusionment and ennui. Leamas is younger than I am now but certainly doesn’t feel it. The final twist is clever but morally bankrupt and the unhappy ending, when it comes, is not unexpected. An excellently downbeat counterweight to the sort of spy film we usually see and a real acting triumph from Richard Burton.