All's Well That Ends Well (Series 3 Episode 3)

First Transmitted 4th January 1981



Angela Down, Celia Johnson, Ian Charleson and Donald Sinden play unhappy families

Cast: Angela Down (Helena), Ian Charleson (Bertram), Celia Johnson (Countess of Rousillon), Donald Sinden (King of France), Michael Hordern (Lafew), Peter Jeffrey (Parolles), Rosemary Leach (Widow), Pippa Guard (Diana), Robert Lindsay (First Lord), Dominic Jephcott (Second Lord), Paul Brooke (Lavache), Kevin Stoney (Stewart), Nickolas Grace (Solider), Valentine Dyall (Astringer), Terence McGinty (First Gentleman), Max Arthur (Second Gentleman)

Director: Elijah Moshinsky

First off it’s been a huge break – so please blame the fact that I bought a house in the interim and basically didn’t have time to sit and watch a whole Shakespeare play and then write it up. Don’t even mention the problems I’ve had getting the internet reconnected. Anyway, I finally found the time to watch the third production of the Jonathan Miller years – All’s Well That Ends Well, directed by what would become a series regular: Elijah Moshinsky.

Straight off the bat I have to say I really enjoyed this production, despite not knowing the play very well at all. The first thing that will strike anyone watching this is the extraordinary visual beauty of the film. It’s an incredibly rare thing to say about a television production of the time – particularly one shot on the harsher, grainy medium of video rather than film. This strong visual sense is expertly combined with an acute and intelligent analysis of text and characters that has quickly become the hallmark of the Jonathan Miller era.

But first the visuals. Hard to believe it, but this was Moshinsky’s first ever work on film or television. Now apparently this was the secret behind its success – Moshinsky simply didn’t think, in the way of a more experienced TV director like John Gorrie, “this can’t be done” about the more complex, naturalistic lighting he wanted – he asked and his team strove to deliver it. Moshinsky wanted to create a feeling of scenes being lit by natural light, sometimes a few candles, and to allow shadows and areas of darkness to be created. His inspiration for this was the paintings of the Dutch masters – in particular, to my eyes, Rembrandt – though he was also inspired by a (to me) lesser known artist called Georges de la Tour, from the same era who was heavily inspired by Carravaggio.

The lighting team on the film – and credit must go to John Summers, the director of photography – duly went to work to create the sort of effects more experienced directors would have been trained to believe too difficult and time-consuming to attempt. The effect is extraordinary throughout, with extensive use of silhouettes, and scenes artfully framed and composed to form striking visual tableaux. The willingness to feature darkness on the screen, while bathing the action in a warm candlelight effect introduces an intimacy to the drama, making the action very personal. The inspiration of paintings can be seen throughout – the lords at the King’s sickbed bear more than a resemblance to Rembrandt’s The Anatomy Lesson; later the soldiers appear strikingly similar to The Night Watch; baroque imagery is used throughout for Helena and the women of the play.


This strong visual sense rings out through all the scene set-ups, each established with a skillful painterly eye, without ever appearing sterile or over studied. There is even room for a little tip of the hat – in A4 S3, while the lords Dumaine speak, a clear collection of Holbein and Rembrandt inspired “artistic metaphor objects” can be seen on the table before them. This painterly feel also serves to make a virtue of the studio bound locations – such effects could never have been created outside, but the visual skill never makes the action feel cramped or claustrophobic. Excellent use of mirrors throughout allow both scope to be added to small sets, and also suggest a commentary on the differences between projected image and actuality - tellingly, Parolles and the King are the characters seen most often in mirrors.

Moshinsky also makes excellent use of the camera, here a prowling part of the action, moving around scenes – particularly strikingly used in A3 S7 as the camera pans around a scheming Helena to slowly reveal the other characters listening to her. Such camera work also serves to demonstrate character notes – in the example above stressing both Helena’s leadership qualities, but also her slight distance from those around her. Later, at the play’s conclusion, a Helena POV shot allows the viewer to soak in the reactions of each of the characters at her return from the dead.

Of course the visuals would never be so successful without Moshinsky and his team undertaking a concentrated interpretation of the text itself. Most strikingly, both Helena and Bertram are presented as (to varying degrees) somewhat selfish and unwise characters, neither as clever or as noble as they at first appear. Helena’s infatuation with Bertram is demonstrated as being as thoughtless and self-obsessed as Bertram’s own later seduction of Diana – both of them show very little interest in the thoughts and feelings of the object of their affection in their attempt to gain possession of them. Is it any wonder that Bertram looks so sullen at being tied – against his will – in marriage to Helena?

This underlying theme of selfishness and a grasping, elitist control over the world is demonstrated throughout. Parolles may be a swaggerer and a braggart, but really he only reflects the conduct and actions of those around him – and indeed is quick to condemn them when given the opportunity. This atmosphere all stems from the King, here a power-crazed sexual pervert, strongly suggested to be suffering from veneral disease of some sort, grooming the young French lords to follow in his (dirty) footsteps. He takes what he wants and orders and controls the lives of those around him like they are his playthings. Is it any wonder these same lords think it “sport” to kidnap and perform a mock execution on Parolles later? The roughing up of Parolles – and the outrage of the bullies as their own faults are unwittingly told to them by their victim – is systematic in a world where the rich look down on the poor. Even Lafew, more kindly than the rest, has a clear idea of the “natural order of things”.

The sex running through this production is very pronounced. It’s more than heavily implied that a healthy dose of “rumpy-pumpy” is a key part of Helena’s cure for the King. Diana may have contempt for Bertram, but is more than aware of how to use her coquettish charms to get what she needs from him in a highly sexualized seduction. Lavatch – on the surface a comic part, but here played like some sinister backstairs servant – has a particularly sinister speech about love. Bertram is virtually a working hormone in the second half of the play. Even Helena makes decisions based on her own lust for Bertram, and is happy to perform the “bed trick” in order to cement her position over him. It’s a selfish society and the characters reflect these values – they are all, to degrees, only interested in getting what they want and have little regard for the feelings and  desires of others.

Angela Down, a great choice for Helena, brings a wonderful put-upon, self-sacrificing air to the role, which here is subtly inverted to suggest a disguise behind which lurks a far more selfish and manipulative personality. Her coldness and aloofness distance her from contemporaries in subtle ways – obviously from the more immature Bertram – but also give her a natural authority and control over the Widow and Diana. She also clearly has no qualms over manipulating the lecherous King with her body. Throughout the play she shows little interest in understanding Bertram – only once, when he angrily refuses the forced marriage does she seem to express any regret at her decisions, as if it never occurred to her that he might be unhappy at having marriage forced on him. Far from painting her as an angel, she is clearly a deeply flawed person and Ian Charleson’s sullen Bertram – while clearly not worthy of the affection lavished on him by her – surely has a point about being furious about being forced into a loveless (and what has a good chance of being) unhappy marriage.

Her coldness contrasts very well with Peter Jeffrey’s dandified, swaggering braggart Parolles, a generally harmless chancer perfectly happy to bumble along as a carefree hanger-on. Interestingly there is no hint of maliciousness to him – he is a man using what skills he has to get a foot on the ladder. His clashes with Lafew – a very boisterous performance from Michael Hordern, perhaps his best work in the series so far – may have moments of outrage in them (and Parolles goes to draw his sword at least once) but seem almost more like a game than a war. Where Helena’s manipulation is subtle, Parolles’ is played openly and simply, almost innocently. After his humiliation, Jeffrey embraces Parolles’ determination to be one of the few characters to no longer wear a face, but to be what he is – in his case a Dickensian beggar, kowtowing to his masters for favour. It’s a very engaging performance. It also serves as an interesting contrast with Helena – they are both using Bertram and others, but Parolles is open and honest about it, where Helena seems unwilling to admit it fully even to herself.

 

This is a very strong cast of actors. Celia Johnson probably gives the stand-out performance as a worldly-wise, kindly and gentle Countess, who takes a humane interest in those around her and exudes a motherly warmth – she is perhaps the most forgiving and generous character in the production. Pippa Guard is far better here than in The Tempest, making Diana a clever flirt but also giving her a moral force. Donald Sinden does verge towards a theatrical ham, but his clever interpretation of the King as a sex-crazed old man, still gleefully recalling trysts past, does bring a very interesting new vision to the play – and also ties in well with making the King more of a tyrant than other productions have done. Michael Hordern is a stand-out as a vigourous Lafew, worldly-wise but not an innocent. Robert Lindsay again stands out in a small role as a bullying Lord. All the characters fit very naturally into the interpretation of the play Moshinsky has created.

Some subtle cuts are made to the text – in particular all the scenes featuring the Duke of Florence have been deleted – to bring the focus tightly into the family drama Moshinsky wants to show, while still allowing the clashes of this family to reflect a wider society. Moshinsky brings out these themes of selfishness and lack of self-awareness extremely well – it’s suggested that Helena and Bertram learn very little over the course of the play or even really develop as characters, with the ending narration by the King being very open to interpretation (and he clearly also has his eye on Diana). Bertram and Helena may kiss, but is Bertram still responding to the pressure from others? Has Helena learned anything about forcing love on another? Clearly not as the old “bed trick” is the only reason Bertram reaffirms their marriage.

This is an intelligent and fascinating production of the play – in fact the sort of production that elevates the play straight up your list of “favourite Shakespeare plays”. It’s still a little known work, but this production really finds a depth and interest to it. Which of course makes it a credit to the series – and also a tribute to television. A lot of the very subtle work in this production could not have been created on the stage and the use of intercutting, close-up and camera movement – as well the gentle underplaying of some scenes – really uses the benefits of the medium. Moshinsky was quite some find, and it’s exciting to see what he may come up with next.


Conclusion
This is probably the best calling card for the series so far – actually the best. Only Taming of the Shrew I think gets close enough to touch it. It’s an adult, creative, intelligent interpretation, beautifully filmed and fantastic to look at. Coupled up with strong performances across the board – this must be the best cast assembled yet – it’s no surprise this received several awards. It’s certainly the best one to show people if you are trying to persuade them to watch the rest of the series!

NEXT TIME: I'm looking forward to it as we hit Jane Howell's controversial Winter's Tale Production. Those on the know are not favourable. Let's see shall we see?

Romeo and Juliet (Series 1 Episode 1)

Romeo and Juliet

First Transmitted 3rd December 1978

Rebecca Saire and Patrick Ryecart star in Shakespeare's romantic tragedy

Cast: Patrick Ryecart (Romeo), Rebecca Saire (Juliet), Celia Johnson (Nurse), Michael Hordern (Capulet), Joseph O’Conor (Friar Lawrence), Anthony Andrews (Mercutio), John Gielgud (Chorus), Laurence Naismith (Prince), Jacqueline Hill (Lady Capulet), Alan Rickman (Tybalt), Christopher Strauli (Benvolio), Christopher Northey (Paris), Paul Henry (Peter), John Paul (Montague), Esmond Knight (Old Capulet), Vernon Dobtcheff (Apothecary), John Savident (Friar John)

Director: Alvin Rakoff



The inaugural production selected by the BBC, it’s very easy to see Romeo and Juliet as a mission statement for the whole series, both in style, tone and interpretation. Which in this case is to present an incredibly faithful and traditional production of the play, on an intricate set with a studied focus on verse speaking and occasional moments of directorial and interpretative flair.

It’s surely not by accident that the first voice (and the first face) seen on screen in the entire project is Sir John Gielgud as the Chorus. The greatest verse speaker of the last century and hailed one of the best classical actors in the world, it was clearly a coup for the BBC to borrow his prestige. But this opening scene also sums up some of the issues with the project, as the director Alvin Rakoff seems completely unsure about how to handle the Chorus' appearance, with Gielgud appearing in period costume as the camera tracks down and into the great actor’s face while he performs a poetry recital without a trace of character. This staging manages to make both the nature of the Chorus (Is he part of the action? Is he a ‘voice of god’ or voice of Shakespeare?) vague and the dramatic thrust of the play rather deadened from the start, as Gielgud’s recital lacks emotion (beautifully spoken as it is) and the camera basically sits there and laps it up. These issues are symptomatic with wider problems with the direction of the play that I’ll come to later.

This is a version of Romeo and Juliet that appears to be about very little other than telling the story. There is no hint that any major interpretative work or even analysis of the text has taken place. Instead the play is presented exactly “as is” with boy meeting girl leading to tragedy. Any hints that Shakespeare might be looking at other themes – say the destructive nature of passionate love, or the shadow of death lingering over hot headed young people – are completely avoided in favour of a clear and concise reading of the text.

This lack of depth is not helped by the decision to cast Ryecart and Saire. Both were cast in this film as “stars of tomorrow” but the production shows up their limitations throughout. Firstly Ryecart is hideously miscast as Romeo, totally unable to bring out any sense of romantic passion or (later) despair. From the start his discussion of Rosalind and “love’s transgression” is poetic but empty, never persuading me that he felt anything. His performance remains low energy and contained, without any real fun to him – he already seems well on the way to middle age. This hollowness at the centre of his performance continues when he meets Juliet. He only seems to come to life during Mercutio’s death and his reaction to it (though he gives a curiously peevish reading of “I thought all for the best”). Fast delivery carries him through and gives him an impression of anger which he is able to maintain in A3 S2. But by the end of the play I have no idea, as a viewer, why this Romeo does what he does or why he feels there is nothing for him in life with the loss of Juliet. It’s a misfire at the centre of the play that the production can’t really recover from.

Rebecca Saire makes better job of Juliet. Famously selected for the part aged only 14, she makes a strong fist of dialogue and interpreting the lines but, quite frankly, spends large parts of the production looking uncomfortable and out of depth. The age difference (Ryecart is 12 years older and looks it) perhaps also explains the physical discomfort between the two leads – a repeated series of chaste kisses and lack of contact is the hallmark of their relationship while in A3 S5 in bed together they seem to be going out of the way to avoid kissing too intimately. What she does manage very well are the speeches and monologues where it is clear that she has put an immense amount of thought and feeling into the dialogue. Her major speech in A4 S2 is well done, choosing to stress the sharp changes in mood and feeling throughout the script. But with the all important relationship with Romeo not convincing at all, it isn’t enough. The central casting of the two inexperienced leads fatally holes the entire enterprise under the waterline.

More success is had with some of the supporting parts. Celia Johnson is best in show here, with her Nurse coming across as a wonderfully human portrayal of this old retainer, handling the dialogue with a confident naturalism and crafting a warm-hearted well meaning servant who seems to be as closely drawn from a Hardy novel as Shakespeare. Similarly Michael Hordern gives an interesting interpretation of Capulet as a tiresome old man almost touching the edge of senility, taking on menial tasks himself due to a lack of natural authority and whose own servants roll their eyes at his feeble gags once his back is turned. Joseph O’Conor brings a solid fatherly tone to the Friar (his relationship with Juliet is especially well drawn) and Jacqueline Hill gives a touch of steeliness to Lady Capulet.

This big surprise here however is the failure of Anthony Andrews’ Mercutio. For some unfathomable reason Andrews delivers his dialogue in a halting machine-gun way that not only gives no real insight into the character but becomes increasingly more and more tiresome – dialogue is fired out like follows: “who dreams. Of courses. Straight.” And “Some time. She gallops across men’s noses. As they lie. Asleep”. Again it’s never clear why Andrews chose to do it like this or what we are supposed to surmise about Mercutio’s character from it. He improves in time for his death scene but a sense of bond between him and Romeo is never developed and Andrews, for such a charismatic performer, fails to bring any charisma to the part.

The casting that attracts the most interest now is that of Alan Rickman as Tybalt, here making his television debut. It’s surprisingly hard to review Rickman’s performance objectively, with the fore knowledge that he would become such a successful actor, but nevertheless he shows great promise here with Tybalt, investing the young hot head with both a sense of caution and reserve often missing from many interpretations. Rakoff also gives him a small moment with Juliet in the ballroom scene that allows them to establish a warmth between these two characters. And yes the famous Rickman voice is already fully intact.

The small moment Rakoff gives Tybalt with Juliet, is an example of the moment of interpretative interest Rakoff brings to the play. In the opening scene he has the townspeople of Verona turn on the Capulets and Montagues – a flourish that is so rarely done that I was surprised to find there was any textual justification for it. A scene of Capulet buying oranges at a market has the air of a downmarket Brando in the Godfather. Abraham carries a noticeable black eye for the whole play, suggesting very neatly a world of constant violence from the start. A neat shift of location allows the Friar’s long speech at the end to be cut without any awkwardness. Above all it is in the crowd and fight scenes that Rakoff succeeds. The fight direction is by William Hobbs (he later went on to do sword choreography for, among others, Dangerous Liaisons, The Man in the Iron Mask, The Count of Monte Cristo and most recently Game of Thrones) and the sword fights are fantastic – intense, detailed but also ragged and exhausting. Rakoff allows the camera to roam through the fight scenes, using a combination of tracking shots and low angles to get a sense of the melee. The fights also have a raw sense of brutality to them which makes them feel genuinely dangerous.



The fight scenes use editing and camera angles to accentuate the frantic action

Rakoff also uses a lovely motif throughout of framing his characters through arches and other parts of the set, as if to suggest the world (and death) closing in on his characters. The images opposite give an idea of this. In the first, we see Tybalt cornered and trapped by an enraged Romeo. Shortly after we get Juliet similarly framed in the garden, which now seems claustrophobic (in contrast to its first appearance where Juliet is framed in a wide open space) – with the sets after this point increasingly closing in on her, narrowing her world as options slowly retreat from her (see the third image as she lies in bed deciding on whether to take the poison). Even at the end, with Romeo outside the tomb, the building seems to be pulling him in towards it, reducing his freedom to move – an effect heightened here (so to speak) by the low angle camera used to make Paris seem both imposing and almost spectre like. Similar effects are used elsewhere for Mercutio and to a degree Paris. It's flourishes like this where we get a sense of Rakoff’s visual eye and experience as a director.

The problem is that Rakoff fails as an interpreter of Shakespeare. It’s no surprise that the more experienced actors by and large come out of this best. In terms of questioning the text and putting a new spin on the play, Rakoff hasn’t got much to offer. In thrall to Gielgud’s speaking, he encourages similar from the rest of the cast, giving us poetry but not drama. For the dialogue scenes he directs them flatly – cutting from speaker to speaker, using establishment shots and not a lot else – and by and large leaves the actors to get on with it, to mixed success. This is when the pristine street sets of Verona – I was reminded somewhat of Doctor Who’s Logopolis – and the painfully unconvincing forest set really start to jar. When it’s left with just the text, neither the director nor the lead actors seem really sure exactly what they should be doing.

It’s a well meaning attempt at doing the play, but the problem is that this rather lifeless and passionless production aesthetically follows exactly the same playbook as Zefferelli’s 1968 film version and doesn’t really have anything to bring to the table on its own account. As a faithful, clear and straight reading of the play it’s serviceable if weakly acted by the leads. But if you want to watch a film version of the play, there really is no reason at all to watch this – check out Zefferilli for a more traditional production, Luhrmann for a re-interpretation of this play.

Conclusion

Poor leading performances and a lack on interpretative insight or originality are too dominant in this fumbled production. Despite some interesting directorial decision and some very well done fights, this is a lifeless production that totally fails to get across the passion the two leads have for each other. Having said that it’s better than expected, but that doesn’t mean it’s good.

NEXT UP: I’ll be seeing Sir John again alongside Derek Jacobi as Richard II.