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?

Measure for Measure (Series 1 Episode 5)

First Transmitted 18th February 1979

Tim Piggot-Smith and Kate Nelligan encounter sin and temptation in Vienna

Cast: Kenneth Colley (Duke Vinentio), Kate Nelligan (Isabella), Tim Piggot-Smith (Angelo), John McEnery (Lucio), Christopher Strauli (Claudio), Kevin Stoney (Escalus), Frank Middlemass (Pompey), Jacqueline Pearce (Mariana), Alun Armstrong (Provost), Adrienne Corri (Mistress Overdone), Yolande Palfrey (Juliet)
Director: Desmond Davis

I should probably announce a conflict of interest of sorts here– as I watch this production I’m currently a couple of months into rehearsals for Oxford Theatre Guild’s Measure for Measure, directed by my very talented wife Cate, in which I’m playing the Duke. So, unlike all the previous productions I’ve seen so far, I probably came to this one with more personal ‘baggage’ than usual.

As well as that, I was aware of the reputation of this production. It’s generally used as an example of one of the best in the series, and is probably the most acclaimed of the Cedric Messina era. I found it very well made but somehow slightly underwhelming, for reasons that I’ll go into later on.

First, though, to concentrate on the good things. Any production of Measure for Measure is going to revolve around the confrontation scenes between Isabella and Angelo. In a curiously structured play, the clash of these two secondary characters (in terms of stage time and lines) is the spark that ignites this play. The scenes themselves are extremely well done, with excellent performances from the two actors. Davis introduces some interesting camera flourishes, alternating short and long shots between the two opponents, slowly bringing them closer together to share the frame. It’s a very nice, subtle way of hinting at a link between the two characters and also does a nice job of building the confrontation slowly rather than hurling us straight in (see the image for how this progresses).

Kate Nelligan gives an excellent performance as a devout, earnest Isabella who has a complete faith in natural order. She seems almost uncertain about what influence she can bring to bear on events. Angelo’s unwillingness to pardon her brother provokes tears of disbelief in her eyes – as if a world operating without justice is unimaginable to her. She is a woman who has a rigid personal understanding of right and wrong and refuses to compromise on these. Overflowing in faith – in the divine, in order, in justice – she is crushed rather than upset or angry when the world is revealed as not a land of perfect absolutes.


She’s well matched  by Tim Pigott-Smith’s soft-spoken, sneering Angelo, here a man full of pride and ambition (in a nice touch, once the Duke leaves he immediately dresses in a far grander style than before). Interestingly there is a real sense of emotion under his surface – in A2 S2 there is a suggestion of tears in his eyes from Isabella’s actions – and he is clearly deeply conflicted by his actions, unable to sleep, at one point almost unable to confront his own reflection. Pigott-Smith has a real gift of bringing humanity to the character, playing a misguided intellectual in too deep. His visible discomfort during the final scene as lies and accusations entrap him is the self-loathing of a man who knows he has done wrong and can’t change it.

For me the problems revolve around the creative decisions taken with the Duke. While Isabella and Angelo instigate the plot, it’s the Duke who serves as the motor. The Duke is a very challenging, immensely opaque part – despite his huge number of lines, it’s never clear why he does what he does. In addition, no other character seems to truly know him either – he is discussed purely in relation to his office, rather than his personality. What you need for a successful production is a strong, clear and convincing performance from the actor playing him. Kenneth Colley is a solid character actor who does his best, but he underplays the role to a quite striking degree.

The unknowable quality of the Duke is emphasised by Colley’s softly spoken, low key performance. He never seems to raise his voice, he rarely loses his temper and seems uncomfortable from the start with people. While he does seem believable as a man alienated from power in favour of intellect (he is introduced fiddling with a theodolite), it makes him a hard character to invest in or care about. He seems more concerned that people recognise his intelligence (one of his few moments of anger is aimed towards Lucio for scorning the Duke’s wisdom) than he does with Isabella, Angelo or Claudio. He doesn’t seem to get a ‘buzz’ from the final scene. There isn’t any real attempt made to suggest change or development in the Duke – he neither seems like a gleeful arch manipulator or a man who feels compelled to help those in need. In fact it’s hard to understand what sort of man he is or why people like Isabella are drawn towards him.

Kenneth Colley is a fine actor and anyone who has seen the Inspector Morse episode ‘Second Time Around’ knows tortured passion, manipulation and raw emotion are well within his range. So it feels a real shame that he hasn’t brought some of that energy to this part. It’s as if Desmond Davis didn’t really know exactly who he thought the Duke was and pointed Colley towards playing it as neutrally as possible. Now they may have been aiming to have the Duke as a kind of void that the audience overlays their interpretation on top of, but for me it just doesn't quite work. This is by no means a bad performance at all, but it’s not a completely successful one.

This disconnection is a feature of the entire interpretation of the play. Davis is a good director, but for a play filled with as many complexities as this one, I felt a number of opportunities had been missed. By making the Duke so opaque, it becomes harder – despite the brilliance of Nelligan’s performance – to understand the actions of Isabella in taking him into her confidence. In particular the famous ending seems increasingly odd – there is little sense made through the production of a particular link being formed between the two characters – so when Isabella takes a moment and then smilingly takes the Duke’s hands it seems a sudden decision rather than a logical development.

It’s hard not to be a little disappointed about a very well-made, well-acted but ever so slightly empty interpretation of the play. There is a vacancy in the centre of this drama, in both drama and textual analysis that leaves the production a little cold. I wanted more engagement with the challenging plot of this play – it’s not clear to me watching this if Davis was going for predominately tragedy or comedy – in fact it becomes a little unclear about what the production is about at all. Redemption? Coming to terms with reality? The nature of duty? Hypocrisy and corruption of power? I don’t really know, and that’s a problem.

For a production that tries to embrace some of the comedy, much of it falls flat. There is something about the po-faced seriousness of this series that deadens comic material that already struggles to translate from stage to screen. The Froth-Escalus-Pompey exchange in A2 S1 drags and, although Frank Middlemass does some very good work here with Pompey as a crude, slightly stupid carouser, it’s a part that is never as funny as it should be. The funny moments are throw-away – the Provost bringing on Ragozine’s head with a simple “Here’s the head. I’ll take it to Angelo” raises a chuckle as does Lucio's "This could prove be worse than a hanging" and there are other smaller moments away from the more overtly ‘comic’ parts that work.

Now saying that, there are some wonderful touches here in the design and feel. Mistress Overdone’s brothel has a wonderful suggestion of a Wild West Saloon without any anachronistic details, with patrons smoking cigars in a boozy atmosphere. Later the location is trashed by soldiers, with the Duke making his A3 S1 speech in the middle of a smashed-up knocking shop, which is a very effective image. The same set is also subtly redressed as the Nunnery, which is an effective touch. The prison has a fantastic rough and ready feel to it, lit like a mixture of hell and a red-light district. There are some very well done tracking shots through the street sets as prisoners are taken to captivity – very hard to pull-off well in a studio set.

There are also some good performances which I feel like I haven’t really mentioned. A young Alun Armstrong is a stand-out as an honest, dry and extremely likeable Provost. John McEnery also does a very good job with Lucio, playing him as a rouged fop, obsessed with making himself constantly the centre of attention. Kevin Stoney makes for a well-meaning but slightly ineffective Escalus. Christopher Stauli (an underwhelming Benvolio earlier in the series) does an awful lot with Claudio’s big scene bemoaning his fate.

 

Reading back over this I feel I have been impossibly harsh on this production. Quite possibly this is driven by the fact that I’m currently crammed with my own ideas about the lead character and that I’m seeing this show about three times a week at the moment. If I had watched it a few months from now, I might well have had a different view. And I probably will take the opportunity to watch this again, because I think there is a lot of good work here. But for me, I still think that this series as a whole at this stage is still shying away from true interpretative work. All the productions so far have been predominately fairly straight telling of the stories of the play and, for all its assurance and good acting, this is the same.

Conclusion
A central performance that doesn’t quite work coupled with two excellent performances from the key supporting roles combine with some fine film making to produce a highly professional, well made production. Not a bad performance from the support either, and it looks fantastic. But there is a slightly disappointing lack of interpretative logic here – it’s a little too much a straight telling of the play, when you feel the potential was here for more. It’s very good, but it’s not quite great. But definitely worth a watch.

NEXT TIME: John Stride divorces Claire Bloom and destroys Timothy West in the little performed Henry VIII. There will probably be less sex than in The Tudors.