Willow (1988)

 "Ignore the bird. Follow the river,"

This is, let's be honest, a fantasy B movie script made to look like Hollywood fare by Ron Howard, a very conventional Hollywood director but ina good way. Yes, the evil Quene (a delightfully proto-Morgaine-ish Jean Marsh). Yes, the whole concept of an evil monarch destroying all babies because of a prophecy, let alone the narrative of a baby floating down the river, have potentially pretentious Biblical overtones.

This isn't a clever film. It isn't a great film. It's a highly polished B movie, where one may freely chortle at Warwick Davis' shifting accent even while conceding he's acrtually bloody good as a lead, outshining the disturbingly young pretty boy Val Kilmer who is merely adequate as a rogue turned hero. His arc works, though, from petty thief in a cage to lover to a princess. And the tempedtuous beginnings of their relationship are fun, as is much else.There;s a nice mix between straightforward adventure and comedy.

Jean Marsh is, as if it needed saying, the perfect baddie, chewing the scenery exactly to the right degree. It's good to see Billy Barty, a year after Masters of the Universe, as a cheerfully winging it wizard. The cast is, overall, a success. There's no CGI here;the special effects are real, eithet green screen or stop motion.

Yet it's hard not to see this film as a cheeky reworking of Lord of the Rings, and a cheeky little prompt to Peter Jackson in doing the real thing,

Edge of Darkness: Part 6- Fusion

"You can't die alone, Ronnie..."

"Why not? We all do, you know."

The final episode, at last. As with previous episodes, it very much feels as though a single viewing is not enough to glean what lurks within these fifty crafted minutes. Most interestingly, though, is that this final episode barely goes through the motions of being a thriller, again introducing a variation f James Lovelock's Gaia theory- will we, as Grogan (coded as a villain) transcend our Earth and move to colonise the Solar System (perhaps less likely now than it may have seemed in 1985), or will our continued pillaging of our planet see our Earth mother strangle us in our cradle with the black flowers we see in the final shot? The answer is as uncertain as Craven's fate, but he is ultimately doomed. Are we? Emma's ghost seems to imply that humanity had a sapient predecessor, swallowed by thsoe black flowers.

We get to explore the personal complexities of Jedburgh here, but again we are not spoon fed. He's a man with a death drive, yes, but he is at once sensitive and intelligent while cynical and worldly wise. Is he an environmental idealist, deep down? It's left, I think, deliberately ambiguous. Just like the future, and just like the historical currents in this chaotic world of ours, where the twin false gods of Marxism and market fundamentalism have in turn tried to impose a determinism and teleology which does not exist.

It's a downbeat ending, one that refuses to be neat and makes clear, to Harcourt's shock, that the activities at Northmoor were always sanctioned by the powers that be. Nuclear power exists. We live in a plutonium world. How long we can last is up to us. This isn't as easy, pleasant or enjoyable to watch as previous episodes, but art doesn't have to be any of those things. Sublime.

Edge of Darkness: Part 4- Breakthrough

“Well, bodies kept turning up in the bunkers, and you needed air support to play out of the rough. Kinda puts you off your game."

My, this is getting very deep indeed in terms of plot, psychology and subtext. Nothing I say here will do much more than scratch the surface, but suffice to say that this is masterfully crafted stuff.

Craven is back at home, and almost killed by McCroon, the suspect, for banal reasons of revenge. Yet there's more to this, and not just in one way. Yes, there's the fact that someone gave McCroon the information and resources he needed, but there's also the dirty tricks that took place in Northern Ireland, and Craven's own hands are very much dipped in the blood; he personally recruited informers who were subsequently dropped and allowed to be offed by the Provos. This is, to say the least, no less dishonourable than the other political games going on.

There's the genuine question over Craven's mental state, as much is driven by the presence of Emma's ghost inside his head. Then there's the mercurial Jedburgh, whose entire outward personality is a performance. Who is he, underneath? He's not just eccentric- he seems extraordinarily sanguine about the apparent recent death in El Salvador (the series oozes with '80s current affairs), and his loyalties may not just be to his CIA employers. Are we convinced by the explanation he gives Craven for co-founding GAIA?

Eventually, in a very exciting sequence, Craven gets to hack a very 1980s IT network and get a little more information- not least a map of Northmoor. He also gets Godbold to spread the beans- and, while hopelessly in hock to the nuclear industry, he was in fact Emma's man on the inside- and lets slip that the killers almost certainly suspected Craven of fulfilling that role. This is already a complex web, and a compelling one. Plus, it seems, Craven and Jedburgh are going to retrace Emma's terrorist steps.

Excellent stuff. I raised an eyebrow, however, when Craven was told that you "don't say no" to a Commons select committee or "they lock you up". Someone should tell that to Dominic Cummings.

Edge of Darkness: Part 3- Burden of Proof

"I don't believe in the conspiracy theory of history."

This episode may perhaps be, again, less obviously artistic than the first and even more so than the second and, by now, deeply engrossed and, indeed, engrossing in the unravelling of the complex yet clearly narrated plot, but that is achieved without sacrificing either characterisation or verbal wit. This is still extraordinary, even sublime television, three episodes in.

Bob Peck is again, well, deservedly BAFTA-winning in how he portrays deep emotion and bereavement in a restrained man. Craven may be seen, by the end, by his boss as in need of help over his seeming obsession with deeper conspiracies behind Emma's death, but he is simultaneously seen by Harcourt and Pendleton, those nebulous spooks, as a credible witness for their plans to somehow nobble Bob Bennett, whom they suspect of killing Emma. Craven refuses them, of course, being the decent father that he is, but this goes to illusrate that things are not as they seem. The Texan act of the ever-thinking Jedburgh is, as H and P point out, an act. He's a fascinating, deep and nuanced character, hiding beneath both a stereotype and a supposed political standpoint, yet according to Clemmie he co-founded GAIA, an environmental organisation he now loudly derides as terrorists? With him, there are layers to unpeel.

It's odd, and disturbing, to learn of Craven's intimate, touchy-feely interrogation techniques with Lowe, but then it's established that he's a sex offender. Godbolt again pops up, looking anxious to deny things And Terry, Emma's erstwhile boyfriend, is murdered in the bath after giving Craven a clue. The plot thickens, as always. And there are far too many nuances to recount the plot. Suffice to say, I'm gripped.

If this all reads as the work of a drunk person, well, I'm forty-three today, and I've just finished a bottle of rather good Chilean Cabernet. Burp. Stay at home. Beat coronavirus with good wine. That is all.

Edge of Darkness: Part 2- Into the Shadows

“It’s an anal disease. Marx has trouble with his bowels...”

A less poetic episode this time, perhaps. The camera lingers less and we have a greater focus on the unfolding mystery. There's a lot of plot, although masterful scripting means both that it's easy to follow and the exposition follows naturally from character.

So the subtle recap  at the start comes from the faces of the appalled investigating officers as they hear a tape recording of Ronald Craven's testimony- and I shall start calling him Craven rather than Ronnie; it fits his world. And the world of the spooks- not just Pendleton but Harcourt, his eccentric "other half", played by a young Ian McNeice- is one of exposition, certainly, but also of contrast- southern as opposed to northern, wit and eccentricity as opposed to Craven's sober stillness.

Then there's Emma's shifty boyfriend Terry, played an extraordinarily young Tim McInnerny of the same age as when he first played Percy in Black Adder II. He's a man of apparently strong political views but of dodgy loyalties- a police informer and sleeping with another girl before Emma is even buried. He is, I think, very much a type you'll see in the various organisations of the hard left, some of them rather rapey and all of them full of big fish playing their little games in small pools. Craven doesn't like him and, as we see everything through his eyes (including his daughter in his mind's eye, which continues to humanise him), neither do we.

But by this point we know that Emma led a raid on a nuclear facility at Northmoor. And we, and Craven, learn much more when we meet the fascinating figure of Jedburgh, who hides considerable depths beneath that Stetson hat and brash, Republican, Commie-bashing exterior. He and Craven bond unexpectedly over Willie Nelson, and we discover more juicy little details.

This is clever, controlled, deeply human and a fascinating glimpse into the psyche of 1985. I'm utterly addicted.

Edge of Darkness: Part 1- Compassionate Leave

“Stop playing by the rules, Ronald."

I'm going in cold; unlike several old classic BBC dramas I haven't seen this before. And first impressions are that, gosh, this is good. Moody, griping, atmospheric, well directed and all of that from the very start. Even the music is effective and evocative with Eric Clapton's guitar singing with emotion- and I say this as someone who can appreciate Clapton's talent (even Hendrix really rated him), but really isn't a fan of the sort of slickly produced, show-offy guitar wanking that he'd become known for by this point, a kind of Mark Knopfler with a more impressive past.

And mood is central here. Oh, there's compelling mystery and conspiracy here aplenty- Ronnie, a Yorkshire police inspector, is investigating a somewhat menacing and dodgy Trade Union official (or Labour MP; it isn't clear) who is, I suspect a red herring. His daughter is a charismatic political activist who is suddenly shot dead by a gunman who may have been aiming for him. So he heads down to London on leave to investigate her death, only to be told by a spook that she was some sort of "terrorist". That is, I suppose, more or less the plot.

But this episode isn't really about any of that at all. It's about Ronnie's immense pain of bereavement- he lost his wife to cancer and has now lost his daughter- channeled through a very masculine, very English and, indeed, very Yorkshire stiff upper lip concealing swirling depth of emotional ferment, conveyed with extraordinary stillness by Bob Peck. It's also about the close and emotional relationship between a father and the daughter he never fully knew- something which has a powerful force for any father of a daughter. Her ghost speaks to him in his head throughout, showing us what a strong bond they had after his wife's death- and crucially humanising this undemonstrative man.

It's in searching Emma's bedroom that Ronnie finds a folder full of artifacts relating to something she seems to have been investigating- a map, a gun, a Geiger counter- but the scene is about more than plot. It's about Ronnie putting Willie Nelson's "Time of the Preacher" on the record player and the song mirrors his action, moods and desires- ending with it quite clear that he's on a mission of revenge.

One brief scene hints at some men, one of them a Stetson-sporting American, who seem to have been in on whatever Emma was up to, but we follow Ronnie down to the alien, unsettling world of London and the south of England, where things become even more murky.

There are glimpses of political issues throughout- early environmentalism; nuclear weapons; the corruption of the old Trade Union establishment- but it's striking how soft left Labour MP and future Environment minister, the late Michael Meacher, gets to do the large part of what looks like a stump speech.

I don't know where this is going yet. But I know how it feels, and so far it's wonderful.

Wolf Hall: Episode 5- Crows

"You are not a gentleman born. You should not meddle in the affairs of those set over you."

It's 1535. Charles V is being difficult and no son is forthcoming. Henry is not a happy bunny. And the scavengers are circling: the title says so.

Still, there's Jane Seymour. Henry likes her, and whatever thoughts Cromwell may have had about being in with a chance are well and truly dashed. It's a slow-burn affair, with Jane (with family collusion, of course) being careful to appear chaste during the beginning of the affair. But an affair it is, and Anne knows it.

And so she lashes out against Mary, against the dying Katherine of Aragon, against everyone. She becomes insufferable, and a serious rift develops between her and Cromwell, which becomes of huge dramatic import after Henry's near-death in that famous jousting accident.

On top of this, there is the matter of the small fire caused by an unexpected candle in Anne's chamber. Does this imply a lover? Cromwell is beginning to gather evidence against her in case he needs it.

All this comes to a head with the King's accident. Cromwell is at first concerned about the safety of his son, but when it seems that the King is dead everything seems to fall apart. Cromwell depends utterly on his king. If Anne is now to be regent, he faces ruin and probable death. So does Mary. So do many. The wheel turns and runs many people down with it.

Except it isn't, as Cromwell's rough and ready CPR seems to save the day and the King recovers. But that few minutes exposes the fragility of English society in 1536. Will a woman be accepted as reigning monarch? Mary or Elizabeth? Anne or the Duke of Norfolk as regent? Perhaps, after fifty years of peace, a return to civil war? 

It us now crystal clear: Anne is a danger to Cromwell and to others, constantly turning the King against people in ways which, in Henry's court, mean death. The only course of action is to move against her, and Cromwell has increasing support. A stillborn birth seems to convince Henry, too, that he should never have married her: he was "misled", and God has cursed their coupling so he will have no heir.

All this intrigue is briefly interrupted by Gardiner; it seems a lad he knifed in his unruly youth subsequently died. He didn't know it, but he is literally a common murderer, and this has a profound effect on his sense of self. Is this going to further embolden him to move coldly against Anne in acceptance of his "nature"?" All this is masterfully plotted, and the unity of plot and character is superb.

The episode ends with Henry bollocking Cromwell for overreaching his position with regards to Chapuys and Charles V, and reminding him of his humble origins. Suddenly everyone is quite snarky to this blacksmith's son, until Henry realises he needs Cromwell and frantically backpedals. But this dynamic will inevitably continue to and fro.

We end with Henry and Cromwell as friends again, and Cromwell instructed to discreetly find a way to get rid of Anne...

Wolf Hall: Episode 1- Three Card Trick

"Never mind who that is. It's nobody."

So, how many different TV series am I blogging at the moment? Anyway, here's another one.

It's somewhat odd watching this so relatively soon after I blogged The Tudors, covering roughly the same historical period and therefore consisting of much the same event and the same characters portrayed by a different cast. There are significant differences, though. This is no melodrama but a serious adaptation of two works of literary fiction, and there's a more realistic attitude to sets and costume, and a. much artier directorial style. The use of candlelight for the indoor scenes is particularly superb.

This episode, centred on the beginning of Wolsey's fall but using extensively non-linear storytelling to make heavy use of flashbacks, introduces us to both Thomas Cronwell the fascinatingly nuanced character and to Mark Rylance, an actor of the very first rank who rarely deigns to appear on screen. He's every bit as good here as his theatrical reputation. Other stand-outs are a world-weary Jonathan Pryce as Wolsey and a delightfully sinister Mark Gatiss as Stephen Gardiner.

There's a lot of emphasis on class, Cromwell's humble beginnings and his lack of nobility- we even meet his abusive and very working class father. Indeed, it is Wolsey's earlier snobbery towards the Boleyn family that ultimately causes his downfall, or so it is strongly implied, although on the other hand we also get a rather handy bit of exposition from Gardiner about Charles V's Habsburg hordes marching on Rome to make the Pope their bitch, ensuring Henry VIII has sod all chance of divorcing Charles' aunt.

I'm sure this theme will continue to develop, as well as the obvious theme of the upcoming English Reformation. Cromwell's Protestant leanings are hidden for now; the irony of his being so loyal to the Cardinal is, I'm sure, not lost on a single viewer.

The main "event" of the episode is, of course, the sudden and horrible death of Cromwell's wife and two daughters from the sweating sickness. This is shot and acted in order to give us maximum sympathy for Cromwell. I hope none of us ever have to imagine such suffering. It's a superb sequence of scenes.

Things end on an uncertain note. Wolsey is, of course, finished, but has Cromwrll somehow saved his career by impressing the King by some intelligent cheekines? We shall see how it happens. But what is certain is that this promises to be a very impressive little series.