Dickensian, created by Tony Jordan, BBC One, December 2015 - January 2016

Thoroughly Enjoyable Serialization Inspired by Dickens's Novels

Produced by Tony Jordan (who also wrote seven of the twenty episodes), formerly of EASTENDERS, DICKENSIAN could be superficially described as a nineteenth century transposition of the BBC's popular soap opera. The action takes place in an unspecified London street teeming with people - beggars, hawkers, sellers, pedestrians - and lined with shops. A pub ("The Three Cripples") provides a focus for much of the action just like the Queen Vic in the soap. The protagonists originate from a variety of socio-economic backgrounds and interact with one another on cold winter days, where the snow mostly lies thick on the ground or falls lightly. The only thing missing from DICKENSIAN that would give it the authentic EASTENDERS touch is the familiar line of dialogue where one character wants to "have a li'le talk (tawk)" with another.

Frivolity apart, DICKENSIAN is a highly entertaining mélange of various plots, all moving outwards from the central incident taking place in episode one - the murder of Jacob Marley (Peter Firth). Inspector Bucket (Stephen Rea) of "the Detective" (Scotland Yard had not yet been created) pursues the case with relentless persistence, despite occasional misfortunes (such as putting his back out). With his Sarff Lundun accent and quiet manners, he has a knack of making people talk without resorting to violence.

In a subplot, Mr. Barbary (Adrian Rawlins) tries to maintain a facade of gentility despite being in considerable hock to Marley and Scrooge (Ned Dennehy). He has two daughters - one a perpetual spinster (Alexandra Moon), the other a flighty spendthrift (Sophie Rundle) in love with a penniless soldier (Ben Starr).

Miss Havisham (Tuppence Middleton) has inherited her father's fortune as well as control of the family brewery, leaving her brother Arthur (Joseph Quinn) with a small inheritance. Resentful of her power - which he believes is unjust - he collaborates with Meriwether Compeyson (Tom Weston-Jones) to try and recover it. Compeyson is a lip-smackingly convincing villain, able to turn on the charm where necessary as well as commit unspeakably evil deeds (such as drowning Miss Havisham's dog).

A galaxy of lesser characters revolve round these plots: Mrs. Gamp (Pauline Collins) sets her amorous sights on Silas Wegg (Christopher Fairbank); Mrs. Bumble (Caroline Quentin) tries to fulfill her social ambitions despite her husband's (Richard Ridings's) physical and mental inertia; and Fagin (Anton Lesser) tries every trick in the book to keep Bill Sikes (Mark Stanley) under control. Oh, and we must not forget the Cratchit family trying to continue an edenic existence under the most trying of circumstances.

Each one of the twenty half-hour episodes intertwines these plots, creating a world of perpetual motion wherein something always seems to be going on. It is a tribute to Jordan's production that he has managed to portray mid-nineteenth century London as a teeming city riddled with corruption, yet with some elements of kindness thrown in.

Purists might object to the series on the grounds that it is not "faithful" to Dickens's novels in the sense of reproducing the plots. Rather it could be described as a mash-up of all the most memorable characters from a variety of texts (GREAT EXPECTATIONS, OLIVER TWIST, PICKWICK PAPERS, and so on). Yet the series is very Dickensian in outlook: many of the novels were originally written in serial form, and Dickens's readers used to eagerly await the next installment to find out what happened to their favorite characters. This is precisely the feeling we get from DICKENSIAN.

Mr. Holmes, BBC Films/ AI-Film, 19 June 2015

Bill Condon's latest film offers a fascinating take on an elderly Sherlock Holmes (Ian McKellen), who has by now retired from professional detective work in the belief that he has lost his capacity to solve cases. Being over ninety now, he cannot remember why that should have happened; but with the help of young Roger (Milo Parker) plus a series of objects possessing particular significance to Holmes's past, the great detective actually finds out.

Jeffrey Hatcher's screenplay offers a fascinating take on the limits of logic. Holmes has spent his life relying on it, but as he becomes more and more involved in that past case, he realizes that humanity possesses other important qualities - emotion, for instance. For the majority of his lengthy life, Holmes has repressed that side to his character, condemning him to a life of isolation. He only discovers its value during his last days.

More generally, MR. HOLMES invites us to reflect on Holmes's status as a character in western popular cultures. Although a fictional character - penned by Conan Doyle - the film treats him as a living being who objects strongly to the late Dr. Watson's representation in the stories. The Holmes of this film hates a pipe and never wore a deerstalker; these were both affectations provided by Watson for the readers' entertainment. Taking these comments into account, we wonder whether there is any real distinction to draw between the "real" and the "fictional" Holmes. Condon intensifies this feeling through the chocolate-box settings, all green fields, shiny locomotives and impeccably clad villagers walking in the back of the frame. In truth, the Britain of 1947 (where the action begins) was a shabby place, with people dressed dowdily and most motor vehicles left over from the prewar era.

Having set up such an intriguing premise, it's a shame that the film lacks the courage to follow it through. Holmes's housekeeper Mrs. Munro (Laura Linney), who hitherto has been jealous of the detective in the belief that he has somehow "corrupted" her son Roger, undergoes a change of heart and decides to look after the old man. The film's subplot involving a mysterious Japanese man (Hiroyuki Sanada) makes little or no sense at all, while some of the visual devices - such as the sign of "Hiroshima Station" (in English) plastered across an anonymous-looking building are simply amateurish. In the end we feel that MR. HOLMES is something of a lost opportunity, its story being sacrificed on the wheel of a happy ending.

Succinct if Slightly Previous Introduction to Beckett's Work, BBC World News, 25 December 2015

Based on public knowledge of his television career, Richard Wilson might seem the last person to be given the job of introducing a Beckett program. The boorish Victor Meldrew in ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE (1990-2001) - a character who wouldn't recognize art if it slapped him in the face.

In truth Wilson has enjoyed a long theatrical career as an actor and director of plays new and old. He played Krapp in KRAPP'S LAST TAPE at the Crucible Theatre, Sheffield - the culmination of a lifelong interest in Beckett's work.

The problem with Beckett is that critics have been obsessed with pigeon-holing him. Wilson traced the origins and growth of his reputation in Britain and Europe; during the Fifties and Sixties Beckett was always cast as an "Absurdist" writer whose work was quite literally about nothing. Few recognized his debt to popular cultures, especially music-hall. Ian McKellen, who played in a long-running revival of GODOT in London and New York with Patrick Stewart, brought out this aspect of Beckett's work; in a filmed extract from the revival, we understood how funny he could be.

On the other hand, there were others who described Beckett in rather precious terms as someone preoccupied with "the human condition," leading us to speculate on "which humans," and "what condition"? Sometimes it's best to listen to the author: GODOT is about two people waiting for something, not about existentialism or any other late twentieth century philosophy.

We have to admire the strength with which some actors cope with the physical demands required by Beckett's work. Lisa Dwan has had to cope with the onerous experience of NOT I, in which only her mouth is visible to spectators. This places particular demands on her vocal abilities. The fact she has performed the one-person role so successfully emphasizes her proficiency as an actor.

The Young Montalbano: The Man who Loved Funerals (L'uomo che andava appresso ai funerali), RAI, 14 September 2015

"L'uomo che Andava Appresso ai Funerali" concentrates on two deaths - a lonely hermit with a penchant for attending funerals not his own; and the wife of a bourgeois builder whose personal life turns out to be more complicated than might be first assumed. The plot develops in leisurely fashion with plenty of pauses for various scenic incidentals - shots of the Sicilian coast in the late afternoon, pans of the sylvan landscape, and establishing shots of the sleepy villages built in ancient limestone. Director Gianluca Tavarelli seems more preoccupied with situation rather than incident - even in a sleepy town there are dark deeds taking place behind the paneled front doors.

To be honest, the scenic incidentals are more entertaining than the story. The sight of Montalbano (Michele Riondino) finishing off his plate of spaghetti at the local restaurant, accompanied by a glass of sparkling wine, reminds us of the importance of food to any Mediterranean culture. Montalbano takes regular breaks in the local bar - not to drink alcohol, but to partake of black coffee and cogitate on the cases at the same time. Time is more relaxed here: cases get solved at the end, but the investigating officer seems to take a more leisurely approach compared to his northern European equivalent.

Tavarelli is fond of brief moments where the plot is suspended briefly and the focus centers instead on emotions. When Catarella (Fabrizio Pizzuto) sees a beautiful woman entering the police station, he is smitten by love; he stares at her, and the camera pans in slow motion towards her as a love-song plays on the soundtrack. Were he in a position to do so, he would try his best to make a pass at her. Likewise Montalbano, during one of the more rocky moments in his relationship with Livia (Sarah Felberbaum) is shown in a two-shot in bed to the sound of an Italian ballad. Perhaps the episode's most memorable shot occurs when Montalbano and Livia sit opposite one another at a table; through a clever use of lighting Tavarelli suggests that there is a partition between the two of them. This is not a physical but an emotional partition. Although their differences are resolved at the end, we still suspect that the course of their true love will never run smooth in the future.

Perhaps not the most memorable episode of the Sicilian detective series, but nonetheless it has its moments.

The World According to Kenny Everett, ITV1, 13 December 2015

It was interesting - or perhaps more than a coincidence - that this ITV profile of the late DJ should have been broadcast so soon after BBC Four's rerun of the bio-drama BEST POSSIBLE TASTE (2012) which at least tried to examine the complexities of this incredibly innovative yet shy personality.

Verity Maidlow's documentary took a far more straightforward approach by chronicling the major episodes in Everett's life interspersed with largely flattering memories from celebs such as Chris Tarrant, Billy Connolly, Roger Taylor (Queen) and Steve Norman (Spandau Ballet) as well as the DJs sister and ex-wife.

We only learned that Everett was a fundamentally retiring personality who invented his wacky radio - and later television - persona as a means of covering up his shortcomings, whether psychological or sexual. It was only towards the end of his life that he finally came out, ending years of speculation (as well as agony) about his sexuality. In many ways his media persona resembled that of another famous repressed homosexual, Kenneth Williams; both were unbelievably talented, yet chose to hide themselves behind a variety of vocal masks, especially while being interviewed as themselves.

Everett's chief contribution to media history was not only achieved through radio; his series THE KENNY EVERETT VIDEO SHOW (for ITV) and the KENNY EVERETT TELEVISION PROGRAMME (for the BBC) attracted high audiences and critical plaudits. But neither of them were stylistically quite as innovative as the celebs liked to claim; the combination of zany humor and video trickery had been part of Spike Milligan's Q series for the BBC since the mid-Sixties. Everett took that tradition and rebooted it for a younger audience in the late Seventies and Eighties.

Short on insight, but long on video clips from his work in all media, THE WORLD ACCORDING TO KENNY EVERETT proved mildly diverting.

Rudolf Nureyev: Dance to Freedom, BBC Two, 19 December 2015

Combining re-enacted drama with testimony from Nureyev's ex- colleagues and friends in the Kirov Ballet, as well as in Paris, Richard Curson Smith tells the story of the virtuoso's defection from the Soviet Union during the company's first European tour.

Ever since his earliest days at the Kirov, Nureyev was always a rebel. Convinced of his own abilities as a dancer, he seldom listened to his peers in an organization that was stiflingly hierarchical in structure. He regularly quarreled with the ballet- master, but managed to make something of a name for himself in supporting roles. Originally he was not slated to go to Paris and London on the Kirov's first European tour, but a combination of chicanery and sheer persistence ensured that he eventually went.

The Soviet authorities were particularly jumpy about the whole scheme. They had KGB agents shadowing most of the company and reporting on their behavior, especially Nureyev, whose activities included regular socializing with newly-discovered French friends. He made friends with rich spoiled girl Clara Saint; and the two of them led his minders a merry dance round the Parisian clubs and bars.

The defection itself is full of questions. As Curson Smith stages it, Nureyev was on his way with his fellow-dancers to the London dates, when he decided to escape his minders in a daring bid for freedom and subsequently claim political asylum. Whether this was a spontaneous act or an elaborately planned scheme remains unclear: the documentary refuses to provide us with a clear-cut answer.

In the end Noreyev was offered an engagement in Paris with the Grand Ballet du Marquis de Cuevas, but stayed only a few months, violently disliking their production of "The Sleeping Beauty." He did not return to the Soviet Union until 1987.

Curson Smith's production is meticulous in its research - so meticulous, in fact, that the narrative tends to sag in parts. There are almost too many reminiscences, which often repeat themselves. At the end we are left with several unresolved questions: was Nureyev actually politically aware, or did he simply want to escape from the Kirov, having exhausted all his creative potential with that company? And did the KGB actively sanction his defection, based on the belief that it was politically more expedient to eliminate a potentially subversive force from their jurisdiction altogether?

Ballrooms and Ballerinas: Dance at the BBC, BBC Four, 13 December 2015

DANCE AT THE BBC looks at the origins, growth and development of dance-related programs since the mid-Fifties to the dawn of the Noughties. There are some familiar historical landmarks, such as the presence of COME DANCING in the schedules for almost the entire period covered by the documentary, and the evolution of dance troupes from Pan's People to Hot Gossip.

The most intriguing aspect of Andy Hall's documentary is the archive material. We see clips of Victor Sylvester presenting TELEVISION DANCE CLUB, which ran till the mid-Sixties; the camera-work looks stilted, but we have to admire the presenter's enthusiasm as he offers instruction in traditional ballroom dance as well as the twist. There are archive clips of classical ballet productions such as SLEEPING BEAUTY, THE NUTCRACKER and THE RAKE'S PROGRESS featuring luminaries such as Dames Alicia Markova and Margot Fonteyn. And there are clips from archival documentaries focusing on subjects as diverse as the weight of Russian-made compared to British-made dancing shoes and the experience of young boys studying at the Royal Ballet School. John Noakes willingly makes a fool of himself for BLUE PETER, while The Goodies take the mickey out of the couples performing on COME DANCING.

The material from the Seventies and Eighties is perhaps less interesting, if only because the BBC did not seem as interested in dance during those periods as they had been in the past. While there were documentaries covering different forms of dance - disco or break-dancing - the focus seemed more anthropological rather than artistic; viewers were being told why people embraced these forms rather than taking them up for themselves.

Inevitably some of the lazy historical clichés reappeared as part of the narrative. Dance became more sexy in the "Swinging Sixties" as a result of a relaxation in censorship laws, and became more and more raunchy as time progressed. The fact that dances were equally explicit earlier on in the century - for example, in Weimar Berlin - was conveniently overlooked.

In the end the narrative rather petered out, ending with a look at the revival of STRICTLY COME DANCING (2004-), which spawned a renewed interest in ballroom dancing. The fact that ballet continues to be a staple of the BBC's schedules (especially on BBC Four), was conveniently overlooked. Nonetheless director Hall should be congratulated on a fruitful trawl through the archives.

Dance Rebels: A Story of Modern Dance, BBC Four, 13 December 2015

Bernadette O'Brien set herself a difficult task in this documentary; to tell the story of modern dance since the early twentieth century in a ninety minute slot. She did an excellent job, combining archive footage with re-creations of some of the most seminal dances performed by students at the Trinity Laban Conservatoire of Music and Dance.

Some of the archive footage was quite fascinating. We saw the only extant film of Isadore Duncan performing in 1917 in front of an admiring audience, as well as interviews with influential figures such as Rudolf Laban. Modern dance represented a reaction against what was perceived as the dead hand of tradition cast by classical ballet, where moved had become stereotyped and dances were performed mostly for the sake of it. Duncan and Laban wanted to bring the art up to date through innovative movements, and choreographies embodying current issues, using the body to tell stories. Sometimes their efforts caused controversy, but it re-invigorated dance, as well as inspiring others to follow their example.

In the postwar period American innovators such as Martha Graham and Merce Cunningham pushed the boundaries still further, concentrating not only on the body but on divorcing movement and music. With his longtime collaborator (and lover) John Cage, Cunningham developed dance forms that had no need of accompaniments; they were often developed separately and brought together only a day or so before the first night.

In Britain modern dance innovators were spearheaded by Michael Clark, whose work turned away from classical or traditional sources and embraced new musical movements and/or fashions such as punk. Once again it seemed as if he deliberately courted controversy, but by doing so he demonstrated modern dance's potential to expand in any way it chose.

The program ended somewhat peremptorily by interviewing several contemporary British choreographers. To be honest, their work, although creditable, lacked the chutzpah associated with their more celebrated forbears; but we had to admire their efforts to broaden the genre in different directions.

The content made one omission: we wondered why the work of Marie Rambert was not surveyed. Perhaps she was not exclusively devoted to modern dance. Nonetheless this was a thoroughly informative and well constructed piece, an eye-opener for anyone not really conversant with the genre.

And Then There Were None - BBC One, 26-28 December 2015

Others have remarked on the way in which Sarah Phelps's screenplay transforms Agatha Christie's best-selling novel - which has endured a long life as a play, as well as being repeatedly remade for the screen - into a three-hour epic full of thunder and lightning, both meteorological as well as psychological.

In its latest incarnation, the novel works brilliantly as a Gothic thriller that takes the lid off the civilized veneer of a group of Brits (and one Irishmen) and exposes the guilty passions lurking underneath. General John MacArthur (Sam Neill), an ostensible pillar of the community, cannot forget the time during World War One when he shot one of his officers in cold blood for making love to his wife. Emily Brent (Miranda Richardson), a spinster trying to lead a morally pure existence with plenty of prayer at night, willfully contributed to one of her "companions" throwing herself under a train by refusing her assistance during times of need. Dr. Armstrong (Toby Stephens) has been traumatized by the experience of tending to the wounded during World War One, to such an extent that he was guilty of professional negligence after the conflict had ended.

All ten protagonists have similar secrets to conceal; as the drama progresses, directors Basi Akpabio, Rebecca Keane and Craig Viveiros expose every one of them, just like peeling the skin off a pudding. What we discover is that they are all psychologically disturbed in some way; the visual effects such as the thunderstorm, the flashing lights, the rolling waves surrounding the island (on which they are all marooned), and the biting wind, are physical manifestations of their inner turmoil.

Viewed from this perspective, what might seem visually or verbally excessive - for example, Stephens's capacity to overact during times of extreme stress - is entirely justified. This version of AND THEN THERE WERE NONE explores the dark recesses of the human psyche to expose the protagonists' bestial natures. The 1939 setting is significant; in the year the Second World War broke out, everyone begins by behaving complacently, as if believing that their class- conscious attitudes would never alter. By the end, we understand just how precarious British society at that time actually was; few people had ever managed to come to terms with the horrors of the previous war, and the forthcoming conflict would only exacerbate their pain.

Sometimes Phelps's script seems somewhat anachronistic, with attitudes redolent of the contemporary world rather than pre-Second World War society. Yet the decision to adopt this strategy is justified as a means of helping us understand our past, as well as realizing just how difficult, if not impossible, it can be to conceal our sins. A memorable adaptation.