'Little Dorrit,' part five
Apr. 26th, 2009 11:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
litlover12This is going to be LONG. Get your popcorn and your beverages (preferably caffeinated) ready. . . .
Hortensia General! That wasn't in the book, I don't think. Too funny. (Reminds me of C. S. Lewis: "There once was a boy named Eustace Clarence Scrubbs, and he almost deserved it.") Good heavens, what's with all the declarations of love that are actually making it to fruition? First John, then Arthur, now Mr. Dorrit!
Poor Mr. Dorrit -- his paranoia turned into self-fulfilling prophecy. Mrs. Merdle's face is priceless. I don't understand why Amy stands there for so much of this looking blank. It's what the director wanted, I guess, but it comes across pretty poorly and is very un-Amy-like.
Oh, boy. Frederick Dorrit just brought me to tears with "I'll keep him company." Well done, James Fleet. Very, very well done. *Sniffle*
Isn't Amy back in London a little early? Edmund, as usual, is a hoot, but I can't believe that even Fanny could say all those things in front of Amy!
(Cheese and anchovy paste on toast, by the way, is the grossest thing I've ever heard of.)
Arthur: "I'm your flesh and blood!" *Choke, cough, sputter* Davies, you old jokester, you'll be the death of me yet. You're having way too much fun with the ironic foreshadowing. I love everyone getting caught outside the door when Arthur opens it. These filmmakers really know how to use an ensemble cast.
Holy CRAP, a reunion scene! Pardon my French, but that's what I have in my notes. It's literally all I could think to write. As I hinted before, Amy's still supposed to be in Italy at this point. Poor Arthur isn't getting her sarcasm, I'm afraid. At this point he isn't getting much of anything -- except hurt. This scene is turning out to be horrible. It could have been good, but it's horrible. If I might slip into psychiatric parlance for a moment, Amy is meant to be Arthur's "safe place," the person he can trust and be comfortable with when he's beset from all other sides. And she would never speak that way to someone whom she loves and respects and who's been nothing but kind to her. Bad, bad, BAD idea.
Nice epitaph for Mr. Merdle. And again Fanny strikes the practical note. Okay, she's funny, but we don't need to be wasting time on them just now -- ah, okay, here's Arthur. Macfadyen is terrific in this scene, and so is Marsan (Pancks apparently choking half to death notwithstanding). Fanny and Edmund again -- I have to admit I'm enjoying their cross-talk act. Arthur's friends are so dear, trying to hide him. And Arthur is so dear too, poor remorseful man. Somebody give him a hug already!
"What?" Well, Arthur, sweetheart, it sure doesn't take a brick building to fall on you! (Mom's verdict: "Clueless.") But seriously, both he and John are so touching in this scene.
How Blandois could have gotten into the Marshalsea after the gate was locked, I can't fathom, but this scene with him and Arthur is so well done I'll overlook the improbability of it!
Oh, gee, doctor, you're useful. "Take two brandies and call me in the morning, if you're alive." Ladies and gentlemen, Victorian medicine at its finest. Poor dear Arthur.
Who the heck kept telling Claire Foy to look blank in this installment? Couldn't we have a little more reaction to the news that the love of her life is sick and in prison? (By the way, who'd've thought Edmund would be so good at doing a "flit"? You know you're in trouble when Edmund Sparkler is the guy giving you your instructions.)
I love the way Amy takes charge of the situation with Arthur -- no snapping or shrewishness, just calmly telling him the way it's going to be. THIS is the Little Dorrit I know and love.
We never did get much of Tattycoram's story. Well, we don't in the book either. It's just left undeveloped. From Dickens I almost get a sense of "Oops, forgot to do anything with Tattycoram -- let's just have her take charge of the box, bring her back home, and use her to teach the lesson 'Don't bite the hand that feeds you.'" Which is a good enough lesson, but probably would have been much stronger if she'd actually had a plot of her own. But in a book with so many plots, I guess now and then one slips through the cracks.
Why is Mrs. Clennam smiling? If she still thinks Blandois doesn't know what he's talking about, she's pretty darned dense. I don't think the Tattycoram intercuts are a very good idea here. The situation is confusing enough. But the explanation of the secret does make sense -- mostly. (See the post about the Clennam family secret that I'll be putting up momentarily.) But they could have arranged the revelation a little better. Case in point: DUH, Affery! What do you mean, who was the child? How many children has Mrs. Clennam ever raised? The whole thing would have flowed better if they'd said upfront that the child in question was Arthur, since it's screamingly obvious anyway.
But the actors are rocking this scene. Blandois's expression after Mrs. Clennam's "He knew no mother but me," for example. I think that's the first time he's ever felt sorry for Arthur. Kudos to Judy Parfitt for making that "I can walk!" moment believable (more believable, it must be said, than Arthur's hopping out of bed with a merry "I'm well!").
And there goes the house. Well, Blandois always said he would be the fall of the House of Clennam. The wheelchair up on top is a nice touch. Wait, did Mrs. Clennam just die? That's a new one -- in the book she didn't die until after the close of the story. I have a feeling I know why they changed it, though. . . .
I don't think the Casby/Pancks scene works too well here. The vengeance of Pancks takes too long, and that makes it lose its effectiveness. I suppose it's harder to act these things than to write them, but Dickens had him swooping in and shearing Casby like an avenging angel; here it looks more like "Come sit down and I'll give you a haircut."
I wouldn't want to get between Fanny and her hatbox, I'll tell you that.
Nice little moment for Flora here. I like how her real nobility and dignity finally shine through.
And here's why they had Mrs. Clennam die: so Arthur could be told the truth about his real mother. Well, I can't deny it's a good idea; I've always regretted that we didn't see that scene in the book. (Good, they got John's epitaph in there! It's kind of delaying what we're all waiting for, though.) I wanted Amy to be the one to tell him the truth, but oh well. Aw, now this is a sweet scene. Really, really sweet. Awwwwwwww.
Has anyone ever been this happy to be poor? Well, if it gets you a guy like Arthur, it might not be so awful at that!
Hmm, so they're going with "He really loved Amy all along, and not Pet at all!" Well, okay, I can live with that. It's not like I ever had any emotional investment in the Arthur/Ditz relationship.
I do think Doyce might have been a little kinder at first and told Arthur straight off that everything was okay. But at least he finally got it out. This ending is awesome -- there's something so It's a Wonderful Life about it. Arthur's real mother loved him, his fake mother loved him, Amy loves him, Doyce forgives him, he can pay all his debts, and he still has his job . . . and apparently he and Amy are going to be liplocked for all eternity. Well, good on 'em! It's taken them long enough to get there. And Cavaletto is enjoying it so, bless his romantic little Italian heart.
(By the way -- I have to admit that Davies's handling of the name issue is an improvement. Don't anybody faint. But a husband would not call his wife "Little Dorrit." He just wouldn't. And no wife would want to be called "Little [Insert Maiden Name Here]." My dear Dickens, I'm sorry, but you did flub that one. I never could believe, and never did believe, that Amy wouldn't want her husband to call her by her actual name.)
This is a far bigger wedding scene than in the book, but I guess you have to have something pretty big to wrap up an eight-hour miniseries. And the important thing is that it's their wedding! Woohoo, they made it! But there's one thing they should have stuck to from the book, and that's having Amy "simply dressed." (Her wedding dress has to be purple? Bright purple? PLEASE!) And off they go to their happy-ever-after. Hurray!!
And that's a wrap! For me, that is. Now it's your turn to comment on the conclusion!
Hortensia General! That wasn't in the book, I don't think. Too funny. (Reminds me of C. S. Lewis: "There once was a boy named Eustace Clarence Scrubbs, and he almost deserved it.") Good heavens, what's with all the declarations of love that are actually making it to fruition? First John, then Arthur, now Mr. Dorrit!
Poor Mr. Dorrit -- his paranoia turned into self-fulfilling prophecy. Mrs. Merdle's face is priceless. I don't understand why Amy stands there for so much of this looking blank. It's what the director wanted, I guess, but it comes across pretty poorly and is very un-Amy-like.
Oh, boy. Frederick Dorrit just brought me to tears with "I'll keep him company." Well done, James Fleet. Very, very well done. *Sniffle*
Isn't Amy back in London a little early? Edmund, as usual, is a hoot, but I can't believe that even Fanny could say all those things in front of Amy!
(Cheese and anchovy paste on toast, by the way, is the grossest thing I've ever heard of.)
Arthur: "I'm your flesh and blood!" *Choke, cough, sputter* Davies, you old jokester, you'll be the death of me yet. You're having way too much fun with the ironic foreshadowing. I love everyone getting caught outside the door when Arthur opens it. These filmmakers really know how to use an ensemble cast.
Holy CRAP, a reunion scene! Pardon my French, but that's what I have in my notes. It's literally all I could think to write. As I hinted before, Amy's still supposed to be in Italy at this point. Poor Arthur isn't getting her sarcasm, I'm afraid. At this point he isn't getting much of anything -- except hurt. This scene is turning out to be horrible. It could have been good, but it's horrible. If I might slip into psychiatric parlance for a moment, Amy is meant to be Arthur's "safe place," the person he can trust and be comfortable with when he's beset from all other sides. And she would never speak that way to someone whom she loves and respects and who's been nothing but kind to her. Bad, bad, BAD idea.
Nice epitaph for Mr. Merdle. And again Fanny strikes the practical note. Okay, she's funny, but we don't need to be wasting time on them just now -- ah, okay, here's Arthur. Macfadyen is terrific in this scene, and so is Marsan (Pancks apparently choking half to death notwithstanding). Fanny and Edmund again -- I have to admit I'm enjoying their cross-talk act. Arthur's friends are so dear, trying to hide him. And Arthur is so dear too, poor remorseful man. Somebody give him a hug already!
"What?" Well, Arthur, sweetheart, it sure doesn't take a brick building to fall on you! (Mom's verdict: "Clueless.") But seriously, both he and John are so touching in this scene.
How Blandois could have gotten into the Marshalsea after the gate was locked, I can't fathom, but this scene with him and Arthur is so well done I'll overlook the improbability of it!
Oh, gee, doctor, you're useful. "Take two brandies and call me in the morning, if you're alive." Ladies and gentlemen, Victorian medicine at its finest. Poor dear Arthur.
Who the heck kept telling Claire Foy to look blank in this installment? Couldn't we have a little more reaction to the news that the love of her life is sick and in prison? (By the way, who'd've thought Edmund would be so good at doing a "flit"? You know you're in trouble when Edmund Sparkler is the guy giving you your instructions.)
I love the way Amy takes charge of the situation with Arthur -- no snapping or shrewishness, just calmly telling him the way it's going to be. THIS is the Little Dorrit I know and love.
We never did get much of Tattycoram's story. Well, we don't in the book either. It's just left undeveloped. From Dickens I almost get a sense of "Oops, forgot to do anything with Tattycoram -- let's just have her take charge of the box, bring her back home, and use her to teach the lesson 'Don't bite the hand that feeds you.'" Which is a good enough lesson, but probably would have been much stronger if she'd actually had a plot of her own. But in a book with so many plots, I guess now and then one slips through the cracks.
Why is Mrs. Clennam smiling? If she still thinks Blandois doesn't know what he's talking about, she's pretty darned dense. I don't think the Tattycoram intercuts are a very good idea here. The situation is confusing enough. But the explanation of the secret does make sense -- mostly. (See the post about the Clennam family secret that I'll be putting up momentarily.) But they could have arranged the revelation a little better. Case in point: DUH, Affery! What do you mean, who was the child? How many children has Mrs. Clennam ever raised? The whole thing would have flowed better if they'd said upfront that the child in question was Arthur, since it's screamingly obvious anyway.
But the actors are rocking this scene. Blandois's expression after Mrs. Clennam's "He knew no mother but me," for example. I think that's the first time he's ever felt sorry for Arthur. Kudos to Judy Parfitt for making that "I can walk!" moment believable (more believable, it must be said, than Arthur's hopping out of bed with a merry "I'm well!").
And there goes the house. Well, Blandois always said he would be the fall of the House of Clennam. The wheelchair up on top is a nice touch. Wait, did Mrs. Clennam just die? That's a new one -- in the book she didn't die until after the close of the story. I have a feeling I know why they changed it, though. . . .
I don't think the Casby/Pancks scene works too well here. The vengeance of Pancks takes too long, and that makes it lose its effectiveness. I suppose it's harder to act these things than to write them, but Dickens had him swooping in and shearing Casby like an avenging angel; here it looks more like "Come sit down and I'll give you a haircut."
I wouldn't want to get between Fanny and her hatbox, I'll tell you that.
Nice little moment for Flora here. I like how her real nobility and dignity finally shine through.
And here's why they had Mrs. Clennam die: so Arthur could be told the truth about his real mother. Well, I can't deny it's a good idea; I've always regretted that we didn't see that scene in the book. (Good, they got John's epitaph in there! It's kind of delaying what we're all waiting for, though.) I wanted Amy to be the one to tell him the truth, but oh well. Aw, now this is a sweet scene. Really, really sweet. Awwwwwwww.
Has anyone ever been this happy to be poor? Well, if it gets you a guy like Arthur, it might not be so awful at that!
Hmm, so they're going with "He really loved Amy all along, and not Pet at all!" Well, okay, I can live with that. It's not like I ever had any emotional investment in the Arthur/Ditz relationship.
I do think Doyce might have been a little kinder at first and told Arthur straight off that everything was okay. But at least he finally got it out. This ending is awesome -- there's something so It's a Wonderful Life about it. Arthur's real mother loved him, his fake mother loved him, Amy loves him, Doyce forgives him, he can pay all his debts, and he still has his job . . . and apparently he and Amy are going to be liplocked for all eternity. Well, good on 'em! It's taken them long enough to get there. And Cavaletto is enjoying it so, bless his romantic little Italian heart.
(By the way -- I have to admit that Davies's handling of the name issue is an improvement. Don't anybody faint. But a husband would not call his wife "Little Dorrit." He just wouldn't. And no wife would want to be called "Little [Insert Maiden Name Here]." My dear Dickens, I'm sorry, but you did flub that one. I never could believe, and never did believe, that Amy wouldn't want her husband to call her by her actual name.)
This is a far bigger wedding scene than in the book, but I guess you have to have something pretty big to wrap up an eight-hour miniseries. And the important thing is that it's their wedding! Woohoo, they made it! But there's one thing they should have stuck to from the book, and that's having Amy "simply dressed." (Her wedding dress has to be purple? Bright purple? PLEASE!) And off they go to their happy-ever-after. Hurray!!
And that's a wrap! For me, that is. Now it's your turn to comment on the conclusion!
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no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 03:04 pm (UTC)I had to really strangle back an exclamation at that, so as not to give the game away to my roommates!
she would never speak that way to someone whom she loves and respects and who's been nothing but kind to her.
YES. I was bothered by that too. On the one hand, I can see that Amy represents a distinctly Victorian ideal; in our culture, a completely self-sacrificing woman is not seen as admirable. The adaptations always give Dickens' saintly female characters what we would call "more backbone" (like Esther in the Bleak House mini calling out Skimpole). And I didn't mind seeing Amy call out Tip for his rudeness to Arthur. But after seeing Amy take anything her father dished out, without a murmur, no matter how hurtful, it cheapens her love for Arthur by comparison to have her snap like this at him, when all he's done is not return her love. She wasn't standing up for herself, she was spitefully hurting him for unwittingly hurting her. That isn't Amy!
Couldn't we have a little more reaction to the news that the love of her life is sick and in prison?
Do we see her find this out? I missed that completely! I just thought she appeared at the prison saying she'd heard the news.
I wouldn't want to get between Fanny and her hatbox, I'll tell you that.
Hee!
they're going with "He really loved Amy all along, and not Pet at all!"
Grrm. I'm going to post about this.
I do think Doyce might have been a little kinder at first
Oh, that was such a film device - obviously it was US he intended to keep in suspense, not Arthur!
there's something so It's a Wonderful Life about it. Arthur's real mother loved him, his fake mother loved him
Now, while I agree the way things work out is overall cheery and delightful ("Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building & Loan!"), I thought Amy was flat-out lying when she said she could see that Mrs. Clennam loved Arthur. There may have been a glimmer of love for him in that warped and withered old heart, but I saw Amy's assertion as primarily intended to comfort him, rather than based on any actual detection of this on her part.
Another very enjoyable review, thanks!
no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 04:17 pm (UTC)I THINK -- I'm not positive, but I think -- that when we see Amy in the corner reading a letter while Fanny and Edmund are wrangling over something or other (and possibly Mrs. Merdle too; I forget), that was the letter from Mr. Chivery about Arthur.
Maybe I was going too much by the book when I said that Mrs. Clennam loved Arthur. But the thing in the movie that signaled to me that she loved him was that she was so desperate to keep him from finding out that she wasn't his mother. So I guess I was assuming (maybe I assumed too much) that Amy really did pick up on that.
I look forward to your post about Arthur, Amy, and Pet. Maybe I dismissed that a little too blithely! I think at that point I was just enjoying things so much I was going "Okay, whatever, let's have more kissing!" And they were probably banking on just such a reaction. :-)
no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 11:51 pm (UTC)Must rewatch the scene with Mrs. Clennam and Amy. I do think Mrs. C loved Arthur (in a very poisoned way) but I didn't notice that coming across. I think I was blogging at that moment, however.
Despite my opinion of the Amy/Arthur/Pet thing, I am all in favor of the more kissing! She looks so very tiny when they do, though!