A Question of Attribution

 "If something is not what it claims to be, what is it?"

This is a 1991 television adaptation of Alan Bennett's stage play from 1988, when Spycatcher had recently been all the rage and there was a great deal of interest in Philby, Maclean, Burgess and all that. Not that the whole affair is any less fascinating today, of course, but it must be borne in mind that Blunt had been dead for a mere five years at the time of the stage play, whereas Philby's drab, dreary Muscovite existence drew to a melancholy close that same year. This was hardly ancient history.

Given the writer, the director and the cast, this is obviously superb. It could hardly fail to be, although it's a bit of a slow burner. It's very Alan Bennett- silences, talking around the subject, the things that are not said, and those that are said are said obliquely or in a nice, safe little metaphor. It isn't the parallel that's drawn between attribution of an artist and the attribution of a spy that's clever, as it's a fairly straightforward conceit- it's the wit, elegance and artistry of how it's done. A lesser writer could easily have hit upon the idea, but it takes an Alan Bennett to execute it this well.

The cast is superb. Prunella Scales, of course, steals the show as the Queen, in a deliciously nuanced and masterly written scene which absolutely nails the themes at play here. Yet James Fox is utterly sublime as Anthony Blunt, a highly cultured man, a snob, and a man who has not yet fully come to terms with the enormity of his reason. It's hard not to see a link between his callous snobbery towards Arthur Chubb and the callousness with which he betrayed those who died because of his youthful treason, sins for which his refusal to name the "Fifth Man" shows he has not fully repented. Yes, he can be kind when he wishes to be, taking young Colin under his wing, but his downfall is utterly deserved.

The twist involving Geoffrey Palmer's character may be a little dated now that we know who the Fifth Man was (John Cairncross), but it's nicely done. Overall, this is vintage, exquisite Bennett. It's philosophical, very English, in the way of that generation- emotions are understated to the point of near-invisibility but far from absent. Beneath the stiff upper lip lies deep emotion, and few show that the way Bennett does.

The Lady in the Van (2015)

 "You wouldn't get Harold Pinter pushing a van down the street."

I remember reading, some decades ago, some mention of the tragic and eccentric Miss Mary Sheppard, as she certainly wasn't called, in the memoirs of Alan Bennett. rather more recently, we lost the superlative Maggie Smith. So it's high time that I saw, and blogged, this film.

Much though Alex Jennings is magnificent in totally inhabiting Alan Bennett while also giving us not merely an impression but an actual performance, Maggie Smith is indeed utterly incredible here, in a role that perfectly fits her talents- a humorous figure, yes, but one who will, by the film, come to evoke such pathos. Not exactly likeable- but endearing, nonetheless.

Yes, as befitting a script by Alan Bennett, this film is about so much. The very English timidity that can lead one to reluctantly allow an imperiously haughty homeless old lady to live in a van on one's property. How easily one can become a carer without really intending to, or realising it. That very English issue of class- Miss Sheppard is from loftier origins than the nevertheless Oxford educated Alan Bennett, son of a Leeds butcher, yet he is now a feted playwright living in fashionable Camden whereas she is homeless- plays out in all its nuances, most deliciously as Bennett's mother avoids contact with her son's unwanted guest because "With her being educated, I wouldn't know what to say."

This isn't a film for those who like action- very little, I suppose, happens, and even the mystery of Miss Sheppard's past is not over-emphasised. This is a quietly philosophical, meditative film that is, above all, about the ethics of using real peoples' lives for one's writing, and I for one found it most enjoyable.

The Scandalous Lady W

"I belong to no man!"

It's almost a cliche to say that the BBC could do a costume drama in its sleep. Unfortunately that's what it seems to have done here.

Oh, it all looks good. You expect that. And Natalie Dormer is good and not to blame for her underwritten character. But given the huge themes at play here- the fact that women, in 1782 as here and for ninety years after, were legally their husbands' "property" and, of course, our old friend those sexual double standards- the script doesn't really involve us much inter characters, or get us to understand or care about them.

The concept is huge here: a woman isbeing persuaded by her husband to indulge his cuckolding fetish by shagging other men while he watches through a keyhole, thereby meeting another man with whom she elopes. She wins s victory of sorts by successfully fighting in court his attempt towin punitive damages against her new lover, but this comes at the terrible cost to herself of a shattered reputation, ultimately costing her access to her daughter and the very lover for whom she sacrificed all.

This is a heady brew. Why, then, do I not feel emotionally engaged? Perhaps this is not a story that could have been told over a mere ninety minutes; it feels extremely rushed, to the point of being hard to follow. Why not a six part series?

There are a couple of lines that made me smile- Lord North tells Sir Richard that "Lady Wortley will no more give up her independence than will the American colonies": rather witty for such a terrible prime minister. But beyond this there isn't much historical depth. The role of Lord Mansfield, presiding over the trial, in the ending of slavery on English soil is not even remarked upon, and neither is anything except plot, plot, plot.

This is a wasted opportunity of a story that could have made great telly. Hopefully one day it will.