Showing posts with label Ronald Pickup. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ronald Pickup. Show all posts

Saturday, 4 October 2025

Jekyll and Hyde (1990 TV Film)

 "'Evil' is not a scientific word!"

Adaptations of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde always have a bit of a problem in that you can't just adapt the source material- the novella is entirely framed around the big reveal at the end that Jekyll is Hyde, rather than being blackmailed and controlled by him. And... we've all been spoiled that surprise for 139 years. Any adaptation therefore has no choice but to craft its own tale based around the duality of Jekyll and Hyde, overemphasising the difference between them in terms of personality, and sometimes crowbarring in other characters from the novel in another context.

So it is here. There's no mystery; Jekyll transforms for the first time fairly early on in what is a rather good effect. Utterson appears, in the person of Ronald Pickup, but the excellent Joss Ackland gives us a very different Dr Lanyon, not a friend of Henry Jekyll but a true antagonist.

And this antagonism between them grows into a complex love tragedy between Jekyll (Michael Caine may be phoning it in a bit but he can't ever fail to be excellent) and Sarah (Cheryl Ladd is rather good here, and her accent never slips) which takes up a huge amount of screen time.

However, this is a cut above most adaptations in that it shows Dr Jekyll's deep moral flaws rather than using his two selves as representing good and evil. In particular, Jekyll gives a deeply chilling speech on what is essentially eugenics during a lecture and this, rather than anything Hyde does, is easily the film's most chilling moment.

Well, aside from the shockingly clever ending!

Thursday, 11 March 2021

The Hound of the Baskervilles (1988 Film)

 "Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!"

And so we end the 1980s for Granada's Sherlock Holmes adaptations- they will next resume, after a gap, with The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes in 1991, a new decade, unless one happens to be gulping them all up thirty years later. Nevertheless, The Hound of the Baskervilles- the most famous, most often adapted, and most familiar story that Conan Doyle ever wrote- is a fitting coda to the decade.

It is, of course, only right that Jeremy Brett and Edward Hardwicke should get their own Hound, and this does not disappoint. Yes, the budget is clearly lower than with the previous year's The Sign of Four- some of the mire scenes are fairly obviously done in the srudio- but the programme hardly looks cheap and, above all, the story (as ever with Hound) and performances, barring a few dodgy Mummerset accents, make this a quality production nevertheless, although perhaps the ending is a little rushed. And the much-maligned hound itself looks pretty decent, I think. It's hardly B movie stuff, and I should know.

Ronald Pickup impresses with a nuanced performance as Barrymore, and it's a delight to see good old Bernard Horsfall as Frankland. But it's James Faulkner (looking just a little older than he was in I, Clavdivs) who stands out as that rotter Stapleton, and never mind that the emphasis on Stapleton in this production makes it perhaps a little too clear that he's the killer.

Overall, though, this is an enjoyable version of the story, much better than its reputation.

Monday, 17 April 2017

The Crown: Season 1, Episode 10- Gloriana

"You have more freedom than any consort in history. And you repay it by scowling and sulking like an adolescent."

As ever, the title of the episode is clever. It's interesting to consider it alongside the final scene, with Elizabeth dressed up all regal and told to be Elizabeth Regina, most definitely not Elizabeth Windsor. This is both the theme and the tragedy of both the episode and the series.

Elizabeth Windsor has her interests- keeping her husband happy with the man she loves and maintaining a happy marriage with her increasingly petulant husband (Phil ends the series being increasingly unlikeable, beastly to both Elizabeth and Charles without sufficient motivation). But it's in the interests of Elizabeth Regina to ruin all this in the name of a glorious yet powerless monarchy and an uncaring Church which seems to exist only to cruelly police people's sex lives. What happens to Margaret and Peter is unspeakably cruel and I can see how Margaret sees the chance to renounce her titles as a liberation- the chains may be made of gold but to be royal is to be enslaved, with no agency, privacy, dignity or power.

And it stays with you. In a powerful scene a desperate Elizabeth asks for advice from her uncle David, the only person alive who knows how she feels- and for once he drops the cynical mask and speaks honestly; there is no escape from these conflicts between person and monarch, not even abdication. These are complex, abstract themes, handled well in a strong finale.

There's another strand to the episode, though. The new PM, Sir Anthony Eden, at first seems much younger and more vigorous than his predecessor, but we gradually see the pills he's taking, the pain he's in and, in the final scene, the recreational drugs he's injecting; is he any more fit for the job than his predecessor was? The trippy final scene makes it clear that Suez is coming.  This veteran foreign secretary has been reduced to a drug-addicted shadow of a man just when it's all about to kick off.


Thursday, 23 March 2017

The Crown: Season 1, Episode 5: Smoke and Mirrors

"Borrow it, Ma'am? From whom? If it's not yours, whose is it?"

And so we come to the coronation, that watershed in British television history where a ceremony both elitist and inclusive (Phil let the TV cameras in) finally made telly a true mass medium. It was also, as we see here, a battle of wills between, inevitably, tradition- the Dukes of Norfolk have arranged all coronations since James II- and the radical modernising zeal of, er, Prince Philip. In 1953 he was very much the outsider, and has the fear of revolution of a continental royal..

It;s nice, then, that we begin with a flashback to 1937, as George VI lets little Lilibet help him with practising for his big day. It's also a brilliant showcase for David as a character- forbidden from the event, he may host a small party in Paris, mocking the ceremony as it is screened, but he is not so cynical as he seems; he is wounded that he never lasted long enough to have a coronation of his own.

This is also the point where Queen Mary dies, a very present link with the Victorian past. The same could be said of Churchill, who now sits during his audiences with the Queen. But the centrepiece is the ceremony itself, much of which is simply shown as was, complete with the Archbishop of Canterbury (Ronald Pickup) fluffing his lines. It's a deeply moving and powerful piece of mumbo-jumbo. But we end with Elizabeth and Philip's marriage in an awkward place.

More very good drama, as we can expect from Netflix. The Crown is, perhaps, in the "very good" caegory rather than being one of the all-time greats, but at the halfway point I'm very much enjoying it.

Friday, 17 March 2017

The Crown: Season 1, Episode 1- Wolverton Splash

"I've signed myself away."

"Or won the greatest prize on Earth."

Yes, I know: yet another TV series on the go and so very many plates spinning. I eventually finish them all, you know me! Everything will be followed to its conclusion at some point. Well, perhaps not Detectorists...

Anyway, let's turn to The Crown, a new-ish (I'm slightly behind the curve, as usual) Netflix drama which has gleaned quite a lot of critical acclaim and stars Claire Foy as a young Queen Elizabeth II from the time when a pubescent Paul McCartney used to perv over her and Matt Smith as everybody's favourite casual racist, Phil. Both are rather good. The script takes an interesting tack, though: the era depicted is staid, with rationing, pre-'60s stultifying puritanism and a truly crap popular culture, but the script plays against this. King George VI in his first scene- which shows just how mollycoddled by servants monarchs are,-drops the C bomb quite casually. That's an interesting choice and drops a hint that this programme may be a little interesting to someone like me who isn't exactly an ardent royalist.

(There. I've said it; not really a royalist. That isn't to say that I want a republic right now- I don't think our age has the appropriate regard for constitutional propriety or civil liberties for such major constitutional surgery and I think we should carry on, ideally with some Scandinavian-style reform, with some kind of constitutional monarchy. But if you were making a new country from scratch then of course you'd have some kind of republic and it's silly to pretend otherwise.)

But perhaps the most interesting piece of casting is John Lithgow (the baddie from Santa Claus: The Movie!!!) as Winston Churchill. He's far from obvious until you see his extraordinary performance which strikes that difficult yet perfect balance between impression and performance. Ben Miles is good too as  royal equerry Peter Townsend, so very proper as he secretly shags Princess Margaret.

Anyway, Phil and Lilibet are getting married. It's all very grand, especially for the austere 1947. She says "obey", which raises eyebrows. The Tories "win" the 1951 election, and Churchill gets to recycle his famous line about Attlee and the empty taxi. But this episode is essentially about the warm relationship between Lilibet and Phil, his difficulty- '50s gender roles being what they are- in adjusting from naval life to the life of a royal "wife", and how the  news of the King's cancer is so slowly kept from him but how, in spite of the denial and the stiff upper lips, it's killing him.

This is actually rather good.