Author: Keith Humphreys

Not everything we love the first time we see it holds up over time. But I recently rewatched an ITV series I first enjoyed when it debuted in 1991 and it was every bit as suspenseful, and compelling as I remembered: Prime Suspect.

The first episode introduces us to Jane Tennison, one of British television’s immortal characters. Played by the estimable Dame Helen Mirren, at the opening of the series Tennison is a Detective Chief Inspector who is crushed against the glass ceiling. Neither the men above and below her in the hierarchy take her seriously, so much so that when a male DCI suddenly is unable to continue a murder investigation, she still has to fight her skeptical boss (John Benfield) not to be skipped over in favor of a male investigator from outside the nick.

On its face, the case she is assigned to crack looks a straightforward investigation of a prostitute murdered by a punter. When Tennison begins to suspect that there is more here than meets the eye, her male colleagues resist her conclusions. She is particularly challenged, undermined and mocked by Detective Sergeant Utley (a very credible Tom Bell), who at first seems motivated only by misogyny but things become more complex from there. As Tennison works relentlessly to solve the case and win over her male doubters, her romantic relationship with a divorced father (a pre-fame Tom Wilkinson) begins to suffer.

Prime Suspect is the work of many talented people, but its greatness derives mainly from two phenomenally talented women, namely Mirren and writer Lynda La Plante. Mirren shows enormous range as she brings across Tennison’s toughness, intelligence, ambition, vulnerability and isolation. Tennison is a flawed person, but Mirren makes you pull for her with all your might.

This is also a credit a course to La Plante, who created the character (based on real-life copper Jackie Malton) and the grim and twisty mystery that Tennison tries to solve. La Plante’s script is painfully realistic about what it’s like for the first women who venture into all-male preserves. Notably, she is too talented a writer to give us a Hollywoodized fairy tale of policework adopting a female-friendly work culture to accommodate Tenison. Rather, what happens over the course of the story is that Tennison becomes more like the men around her: ruthless, hard-bitten, neglectful of family and most crucially a heavy boozer (which takes an increasing toll in future episodes). La Plante knows that big organizations change the individuals within them far more the reverse. The development of that theme over the series is one of many reasons why Prime Suspect is widely regarded as a classic of British television.

p.s. This review focuses on the debut episode, but the series ultimately produced 6 more episodes over the next 15 years. All of the follow-up episodes are very good, with my favorite being The Scent of Darkness. In contrast, the spin-off 2017 prequel can’t hold a candle to the original.

p.p.s. Look fast for a pre-fame Ralph Fiennes as an ex-boyfriend of the deceased.

The story of the Titanic is so well-known today (not least due to James Cameron’s mega-budget mega-hit 1997 movie) that the The Onion could run the headline “World’s largest metaphor hits iceberg” confident that everyone would get the joke. But the modern cultural obsession with Titanic goes back less than 70 years. The liner’s sinking was worldwide news in 1912, but two world wars and four decades later, it had faded in popular memory. This changed in 1955, when a virtually unknown advertising copywriter named Walter Lord published a riveting minute by minute account of the disaster based on historical archives and interviews with survivors. A Night to Remember quickly became an international best-seller and has never been out of print since. Producer William MacQuitty, who had seen the launch of the mighty ship as a child, knew an opportunity when he saw it, and with input from Lord made one of the greatest films in British cinema history, 1958’s A Night to Remember.

This would normally be the part of the review where I summarize the plot, but that would be supererogatory here. How the story unfolds in the excellent script by Eric Ambler (who also wrote the script for another of my seagoing recommendations, The Cruel Sea) is however worthy of description. Setting the template for countless subsequent disaster films, the movie intersplices the main event with small moments of human drama, brilliantly carried off by an army of British actors under the direction of Roy Ward Baker, who never rose to a greater height.

Kenneth More, perhaps Britain’s biggest movie star at the time, convincingly leads a matchless cast as the resourceful, brave, and dutiful Second Officer Lightoller (who was like most of the characters in this docudrama film, was a real person). I also admired Laurence Naismith’s turn as the captain of the doomed ship, particularly how much emotion and thought he conveys without words. Of the character parts, John Merivale as Robbie Lucas saying goodbye to his wife Liz (Honor Blackman) and their little children with false assurances that he will see them ripped my heart out. Another unforgettable moment: Ronald Allen leading fellow working class passengers from steerage in a desperate run for the boats until all of them stop in their tracks, dazzled by the sight of the opulent first-class dining room.

Of course a movie like this needs visual spectacle to work, and a Night to Remember is a huge success on that front. The budget was well-spent on lavish, realistic sets, including some that tilted with such convincing groans from their machinery that these sounds were left in the film to convey the heaving of the ship. The special effects are out of date of course, but still credible. And Geoffrey Unsworth, soon to become one of Britain’s most respected cinematographers, is in fine form (I have highlighted his other work here, here, and here) N.B. Be sure to see the Criterion Collection restored version and not one of the battered prints that circulated for decades.

A Night to Remember was a hit in Britain, but didn’t draw much of an audience in the United States, perhaps because it’s so very British in sensibility and also because it gave the American passengers little attention (the most visible being the Unsinkable Molly Brown, who is played by Tucker McGuire mainly as comic relief). But its critical reception was very warm indeed and it is today justly appreciated internationally as a cinematic masterwork.

p.s. Trivia for spy film fans: this film is packed with future espionage stars including Blackman (The Avengers and Goldfinger), David McCallum (The Man from U.N.C.L.E.) and no less than 4 men who went on to play Q in James Bond films.

I ventured that Tinker, Tailor, Solider, Spy is the best thing the BBC has ever put on television. If asked the same question for ITV, on most days I would plump for the 1981 mini-series Brideshead Revisited.

As everyone knows – or should know – the story is based on a semi-autobiographical novel by Evelyn Waugh. The plot is a series of recollections by Charles Ryder of his long, complicated, and life-changing relationship with a Catholic, aristocratic family who are the heriditary owners of a magnificant house and estate known as Brideshead. In the early 1920s, Charles (Jeremy Irons) is charmed by his eccentric, rich, and gorgeous Oxford classmate Lord Sebastian Flyte (Anthony Andrews). Despite their differences in religion and social class, an intimate friendship blossoms, to the point that Charles is eventually almost adopted into Sebastian’s family at Brideshead, which includes his glamorous sister Julia (Diana Quick).

But as the years roll by, Sebastian and Charles’ friendship founders on the former’s self-hatred, resentment of his family, and growing addiction to alcohol. Charles is pained by the loss of closeness with Sebastian, but comforted when Julia steps in to replace it. All of this unfolds as the country is enduring two tumultuous decades when old certanties were overturned and traditional hierarchies undermined.

All three leads sparkle throughout this sweeping series. Remarkably, Irons was originally cast as Sebastian, but agreed to switch roles at Andrews’ request. Their skills as actors is such that it’s now impossible to imagine the casting any other way. Remarkably, due to a technician’s strike bringing ITV to a halt in the middle of making the series, the original director (Michael Lindsay-Hogg) had to be replaced by Charles Sturridge, yet the acting and tone do not miss a beat across those episodes.

Appropriately for a multi-generational story, the cast includes leading lights of a prior era. Laurence Olivier appears as Lord Marchmain, though he isn’t given a great deal to do. Two other famous performers light up the proceedings much more. John Gielgud is both hilarious and a bit terrifying as Charles’ waspish father, who knows how to effortlessly and mercilessly inflict a withering remark. Claire Bloom (last seen on these pages in The Spy Who Came in From the Cold) is also quite effective as Lady Marchmane, the family matriarch. Bloom’s is a rich characterization, mixing virtues and vanities as she grapples with the decline of her son’s health, her religion, and her family’s fortunes.

The less-familiar cast members also shine, including Simon Jones as the stuffy family heir “Bridey”, Phoebe Nicholls as the compassionate youngest child Cordelia, and Nickolas Grace in an endearingly campy turn as Charles and Sebastian’s flamboyant friend Anthony Blanche.

Producer Derek Granger and his team at Granada Television also hit it for six with peerless sets, clothing, cars, makeup artistry, and locations. Geoffrey Burgon’s regal yet wistful baroque theme music is another asset.

What, in the end, is this 13-hour wonder about? Certainly more than one thing. In some respects it’s a nostalgic toff-a-logue like Downtown Abbey (except that it’s good). If you want sympathy for working people you will not find it here: the only mention of labor rights is when Charles helps put down a strike. The mini-series is also an exploration of Catholic life in Protestant-dominated England as well as a compelling narrative of how families change over time in response to marriages, deaths, and historical events.

Most of all, I consider Brideshead Revisited a story about friendship. You can read a pile of critical debates about whether Charles and Sebastian are lovers and indeed the series itself invites such discussion: a dance hall prostitute calls them gay and Lord Marchmain’s mistress (Stéphane Audran) delivers a speech about the English tradition of romantic but not sexual relationships between men. But it doesn’t in my opinion matter, because Irons and Andrews are so sympathetic and believeable as they illuminate how the friendships we make when we are young form and how they change us and then change themselves. And Quick dancing in and around their friendship while managing her love for both men feels utterly real.

Even with this longer than usual review, I really haven’t done complete justice to Brideshead Revisited. If you watch it yourself you will see more things to appreciate than I could cover here, and understand why it remains one of the most respected and beloved shows in British television history.

p.s. Were I asked what else in ITV’s history might compete for the top spot with Brideshead Revisited, I would include the superb mini-series Anthony Andrews starred in just before it: Danger UXB.