It is leaden where it should be light. It is graceless and charmless. It reels from the painful banter. It is the epitome of empty soulless corporate filmmaking.
Oh, stop your tittering. All you know is that Fanny Hill is that naughty bawdy 18th-century novel that got its author, John Cleland, into so much trouble so long ago, and has since become a byword for the evils of censorship and the necessity of freedom of expression. But if you’re looking for something pornographic in this BBC adaptation of the novel, forget it, mister.
I wanted to like this, because it’s British and costume-y and 1920s and 30s and I’m a complete sucker for all that jazz. And I just can’t.
Boris Pasternak’s Nobel Prize-winning novel, the classic story of star-crossed lovers amidst a backdrop of the social upheaval of the Russian Revolution, gets a stunning new production via British television and PBS’s Masterpiece Theater. Adapted by Andrew Davies (Pride and Prejudice) and starring two appealing young rising stars, this is a grimly beautiful production electrifyingly … more…