The latest serialised adaptation of ‘Bleak House’ (2005) impressed me enough to bolster my waning faith in that fine institution called the BBC, at least as far as their costume dramas go. Too many of their shows that I’ve seen of late have failed to fully engage me in the way their older programmes did. Well, despite some minor issues addressed below, the superb performances by the cast make this new miniseries (directed by Justin Chadwick and Susanna White) an engrossing and highly recommended watch.

The story has all the requisite Dickensian elements of eccentric personae with picturesque names, coincidences in characters' lives that strike with supranormal frequency, hidden secrets and undiscovered genealogies that threaten to dramatically alter or destroy lives with their exposure. The tale is told with a rich blend of humour, suspense, tragedy, and tempered joy, without neglecting Mr Dickens’ underlying social commentary. Events transpire within the rigid framework of class – the landed gentry and their servants at the top of the heap, the middle class working hard to stay where they are and out of poverty, and the desperate poor of London’s slums at the bottom, remaining forever at the mercy of their neighbours of higher strata. Although conditions were already changing at the time, one’s fortunes were still largely tied to one’s family background more than one’s accomplishments. A member of the aristocracy in ‘Bleak House’ can barely conceal his contempt when he says of another, ’He’s what they call a self-made man!’

Mr Dickens’ tale, serially published in nineteen monthly instalments from 1852 to 1853, attacked the glacially paced, Byzantine workings of the British legal system. Drawing heavily on his experience working as a law clerk, Mr Dickens especially aimed his barbs at the lawyers in the courts who seemed pleased to waste others’ time and money with pernicious procrastination and foot-dragging.

At the heart of ‘Bleak House’ is the infamous case of Jarndyce and Jarndyce, in which a large fortune is being contested by heirs, as several different wills and fragments of wills have surfaced on the patriarch’s death. The legal representatives of all concerned parties (which include most of the story’s principals) can never seem to agree on anything anymore, not even the meaning of the case. The especial notoriety of the Jarndyce suit stems from its interminable life in the courts, having clogged up the docks for several generations now. Considered by some as a curse, Jarndyce and Jarndyce has caused lives to be ruined, brought death to some, with one driven to such despair as to blow his own brains out. And yet, little progress is ever made in the suit at the High Court of Chancery, with applications for costs taking up the bulk of proceedings.

While awaiting the outcome of the case, the Jarndyce descendants are taken in by a Mr John Jarndyce of Bleak House. Orphans Ada Clare and Richard Carstone thus join Mr Jarndyce’s household, with one Esther Summerson, also an orphan, engaged to serve as companion to Ada. The young trio soon become fast friends.

In the meantime, a certain Lady Dedlock, wife of Sir Leicester Dedlock, a baronet many years her senior, spends her days at Chesney Wold in Lincolnshire wholly bored with her life, as she does little other than peerthrough windows at the gloomy outdoors – until one day when Sir Leicester’s lawyer Mr Tulkinghorn visits, bearing some Chancery papers. Whilst scanning a copy of a Jarndyce court affidavit, she suddenly expresses an odd interest in the person who wrote out the document. Moments later, she is taken ill.

The handwriting, it seems, has caused Lady Dedlock to collapse at its sight. On witnessing this, Mr Tulkinghorn immediately makes enquiries as to the identity of the law copier, with a view to finding out precisely why it seemed to matter greatly to Lady Dedlock. Mr Tulkinghorn is an ultra-loyal servant to Sir Leicester: ’Sir Leicester has my complete personal loyalty, and always will…whatever the consequences to others’, he declares with sinister intent to Lady Dedlock soon after. Turns out that the copier is one Mr Nemo – Latin for ‘no-one’ (something the script tells us once too often) – a kindly, sad-eyed, bearded gentleman who seems to have fallen on hard times and now lodges above a dingy bottle and rag warehouse owned by an alcoholic named Mr Krook. Mr Nemo will pass on quite early in the tale, and exits the series by episode 2.

John Jarndyce frets about the ill effects of the case upon his wards, from which he wishes to distance them, as the suit has only caused ‘false hopes and ruined expectations.’ He tells Esther about his grand-uncle Tom Jarndyce, the fellow who shot himself in the head, by which act Bleak House came into his hands. However, Mr Jarndyce's words of warning fall on the deaf ears of young Richard, who, like a moth to a flame, is inexorably drawn to the suit with unreasonable hopes that, one, the case will be resolved within his lifetime, and, two, that the vast fortune will be his. Even Mr Krook knows of the infamous case and tells his lodger, Miss Flite – who has just seen the young Jarndyce wards at Chancery, and who herself possesses a small claim in the case – of Mr Tom Jarndyce, who committed suicide on the very premises of his shop, and that Jarndyce and Jarndyce will soon take the beauty of youth off the orphans, as they’re slowly ground to bits by it as by a millstone.

Screenwriter Andrew Davies (BBC’s ‘Pride and Prejudice’) once more puts his skills to happy use in translating the Dickens novel for the small screen. Another riveting television programme results from his efforts. In truth, one need not possess the skill of Sherlock Holmes to guess at the early secrets. We soon learn of the identity of Mr Nemo, and his connexion to Lady Dedlock. Meanwhile, unsettled (and unsettling) matters of the heart arise involving young Ada and Richard, as well as Esther and quite a few men of assorted station – including a philanthropic physician named Mr Woodcourt, a Mr Guppy, who works as a clerk at the law firm of Kenge and Carboy (who represent John Jarndyce at Chancery), even Mr John Jarndyce himself. We will encounter an amusing gallery of baroque characters not easily forgotten. Blackmail, extortion, greed and murder – even the dreaded smallpox, and that strange phenomenon called spontaneous combustion – all make their appearances, too.

It’s in the final third that the story’s drama and suspense truly intensify, as serious, sorrowful and shocking events occur in quick succession. In this grippingly good segment, further mysteries will arise that will also find resolution, as will the tale’s open-ended affairs. Things culminate in tense climaxes, and some lives will come to a distressingly tragic – or sudden – end, while others will go on with hopeful optimism, as ‘Bleak House’ finally draws to a cathartic and exquisitely bittersweet close.

Central to the personages in ‘Bleak House’ is the character of Esther Summerson, played with beguiling simplicity by the luminous Anna Maxwell Martin. Seeming ordinary at first glance, Esther’s beauty soon reveals itself in a gentleness of countenance that reflects a loving nature, a generosity and compassion, coupled with a sharp intelligence and good, practical sense. Despite an austere and unhappy childhood marked by hostility and secrecy about her parentage, Esther grows up to be a woman of grace and nobility, one possessed of a certain stillness as well as an independence of mind, and always a heartfelt thought for the welfare of others around her. As portrayed by Ms Martin, Esther’s kind-heartedness is sincerely felt (as with her maternal concern for her friends Ada and Richard, whom she might just match in age). Although blameless in the matter, she also has to bear the pain of an incurable sorrow and shame with great dignity. Ms Martin dispenses with the treacly sentimentality that could easily afflict such a role if left in less capable hands. One accepts the ultimate premise of ‘Bleak House’ only because one believes absolutely in the person of Esther Summerson. It’s a subtle, winning performance that deservedly garnered the actress the 2006 BAFTA (British Academy of Film and Television Arts) best actress award for television.

I also like very much Burn Gorman’s turn as the ambitious Cockney clerk to Kenge and Carboy, Mr Guppy, who provides much of the humour in the film. With his angular, skinny frame and sharp features topped by unruly wavy locks that spring straight out from their roots, Mr Guppy is a perfect caricature, hilariously bumbling yet sympathetic in his attempts to make a good impression upon Esther, with whom he’s thoroughly smitten. (His proposal scene with Esther is not to be missed.) At first seeming like a dangerous stalker, he later proves himself to really be of a shallow and fickle sort. Through it all, he nevertheless continues to harbour an affection for ‘his angel’.

The wonderful Denis Lawson creates a completely believable character of benevolence personified, Mr John Jarndyce. As with Ms Martin’s equally, impossibly, good Esther Summerson, Mr Lawson avoids sentimental excess while investing the character with a touching poignancy. On the other hand, Charles Dance is chillingly effective as Mr Tulkinghorn, playing the ruthless lawyer with a frightening malevolence while avoiding parody in portraying a villainous creature. Helped by a stentorian baritone, his Tulkinghorn can terrorize souls with a mere look, his unblinking eyes piercing right through to the agitated hearts of his victims. And then there’s Mr Smallweed, the nasty, chair-bound moneylender who helps Mr Tulkinghorn carry out his dirty work with utmost glee. Philip Davis plays the cartoonishly despicable Smallweed with great relish.

Carey Mulligan and Patrick Kennedy are attractive, fresh-faced young actors who give well-tuned performances as the respective youthful wards, Ada and Richard. Ms Mulligan plays a young girl in love without turning her into a simpering fool. With Ms Martin as her friend, Esther, the two women persuade as true sisters of the heart. For his part, Mr Kennedy‘s Richard simply begs for a stiff slap on the cheek on more than one occasion for his character’s exasperating impulsiveness and callow stupidity. The deep friendship between the young couple and Esther is genuinely affecting.

I’m less enthused with the frosty portrayal by ex-‘X-Files’ star Gillian Armstrong. As Lady Dedlock, she’s not as fully fleshed-out as her colleagues. She just stops short of truly evincing the emotional turmoil of a woman forced to conceal a secret or two that pains her very much to hide. Her performance seems too studied: the glazed look, brittle demeanour and uninflected speech may suggest a coldness appropriate to the character, but a bit more defrosting, perhaps, would have rendered her Lady Dedlock more sympathetic and credible. I can’t help thinking that someone else gifted with greater emotional fluency and expressiveness could have given the role the heart it needs – someone like Cate Blanchett, perhaps.

Casting director Kate Rhodes James deserves credit for all her good work on ‘Bleak House’. As with the best BBC productions, all the other roles show a well-nigh perfect fit between player and character. Some forty personae make up the list, and include Johnny Vegas as the harmless, drunken landlord Krook, Richard Harrington as the handsome and kindly doctor Allan Woodcourt who keeps a secret flame burning for Esther, and Nathaniel Parker as the vexatious, good-for-nothing, parasitical sponger – and proud of it – Harold Skimpole (’ I am but a child in these matters! I have no profession at all! I have no aptitude for worldly matters!'’)

Also leaving a strong impression are Katie Angelou as Charley Neckett, whom we first meet as the stoic and responsible eldest sister of a newly orphaned, impoverished young brood, and who will become Esther’s heartbreakingly faithful maid; young Harry Eden as the street urchin, Jo; Ian Richardson, memorable even in his brief stint as the bewigged Lord Chancellor; Alun Armstrong as the sardonic policeman Mr Bucket; Alistair McGowan as John Jarndyce’s lawyer Mr Kenge; Timothy West as Sir Leicester Dedlock; Warren Clark as Sir Leicester’s neighbour Boythorn with whom Sir Leicester has a longstanding feud over rights of way on their properties; and Natalie Press as Esther’s friend, Caddy Jellyby, whom Esther inspires to improve herself and her circumstances.

I was a bit more annoyed than amused by the clichéd dottiness of Miss Flite, played as well as dottiness can be done by Pauline Collins. She is redeemed by a gentle kindness of heart, however. As the fellow tenant of Mr Nemo who keeps a denizen of birds in her quarters above Krook’s warehouse, Miss Flite serves more as a link between different characters in the story, much as the boy Jo does.

Famed for their meticulous attention to minute detail, this BBC production runs true to form in bringing us directly to Victorian England re-created by production designer Simon Elliott. London is cloaked in perpetual darkness and damp. We pass unpleasant time in the dimly lit and crowded Court of Chancery, and visit the filthy and diseased pockets of the city slums. The countryside brings much-needed fresh air and open spaces to the screen, but grey clouds and rain still mark many of Lady Dedlock’s days at Chesney Wold. Perfectly matching their surroundings are the authentically rendered makeup and hair (by Daniel Phillips), and costumes (designed by Andrea Galer) donned by the actors. Thus we get, for instance, unkempt locks, yellowed teeth and greasy complexions on the likes of Mr Krook and Mr Smallweed; and realistic, everyday-looking dresses on the women of modest means, and muted elegance in Lady Dedlock’s rich wardrobe.

Cinematographer Kieran McGuigan casts Lady Dedlock’s manor house in Lincolnshire in shades of grey-blues and greens, reflecting the sogginess of the place and the dreariness of her mistress’ existence. A similar lighting and mood evoke the suffocating atmosphere of 19th century London. On the other hand, the relatively bright and cheery interiors in the inaptly named Bleak House of good Mr Jarndyce nicely reflect the welcoming warmth of the proprietor.

There are clear efforts to update the period drama for modern audiences. Personally, I’m none too keen on the camerawork used for scene transitions, which comprise a triplet of quick cuts with ‘swooshing’ and ‘booming’ sonic effects (sounding thus: swoosh, swoosh, boom!). Similarly, breakneck zooms à la Sergio Leone are occasionally employed. I find these practices highly anachronistic to the film’s Victorian setting, although one eventually grows accustomed to them, and the novelties do help keep things moving at a brisk clip. In what seems to be a trendy choice these days, handheld cameras are also used throughout. At least the cameraman spares us the excessive, nausea-inducing camera movement so prevalent in television dramas these days (I curse thee, O ‘NYPD Blue’, for the trend thou hast wrought on the small screen!).

It’s a pleasure to hear John Lunn’s beautifully haunting theme play during the opening credits, as cast names fade in and out against a colourful scrolling collage. However, I take exception to those thunderous, rumbling sounds with ghostly echoes used to highlight moments of ominous intent and danger – which could have been deployed with more restraint. It’s not a mortal sin, and many viewers may like it just fine, but it does gild the lily at times.

While this new ‘Bleak House’ never slackens its pace, the storytelling can also tend toward the hasty side of things. Before one has fully absorbed the impact of a major turn of events, new ones follow quickly on its heels to propel you forward a tad too soon, leaving you with a mild case of cinematic whiplash. Of course, Mr Dickens’ story positively bursts with a surfeit of characters, intertwining subplots and incidents, and the filmmakers likely did their best with the special challenges posed by the source material. There’s an easy fix – I’d recommend a second, even a third, helping of the series, as one often misses the odd and important detail at first viewing. Fortunately, doing so is far from a painful task.

Despite these few, very minor bugs, this exceedingly well-crafted film deserves the highest marks for many things, but mostly for the excellent performances delivered by the cast. Much like the serialised publication by Dickens, the programme is divided into fifteen (15) half-hour episodes (except for the one-hour pilot), each ending in a cliffhanger, for a total of 8 hours in all spread over three DVDs. (It originally aired in the UK in two weekly half-hour episodes beginning on 27 October 2005, and in the US on PBS as six one-hour instalments – other than the two-hour pilot and finale – every Sunday beginning on 22 January 2006.) The entire series was shot over a period of six months and cost the BBC (and co-producer WGBH of Boston) about GBP6 million = $11 million, a mere pittance in Hollywood. A word of advice: do rent or borrow all three discs at the same time, because believe me, you’ll have lived with these characters so intimately and become so fond of them – that you’ll want desperately to know what happens next at the end of the first two discs. Four-and-a-half stars.


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DVD Notes:

The entire 3-disc set is available at amazon.com for $29.47. (The skimpy features have nothing else besides episode and scene listings and previews for other BBC programmes).

However, you can have the pleasure of harbouring UK-envy very soon: a Special Edition disc set (which includes commentaries from the writer, directors and producers, as well as interviews with Gillian Anderson, Charles Dance and Denis Lawson, and a photo gallery) will be released in the UK in early November 2006, but no word if this will be available to US/Region 1 DVD consumers.


Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: DVD
Video Occasion: Better than Watching TV