You don't need to read this review.
An earlier review, by pninson of Seattle, has already identified all the main shortcomings of this production. I can only amplify its basic arguments.
Bleak House was a relatively late Dickens novel and is much darker than his earlier work. This is taken too literally by the director, Ross Devenish, who piles on the gloom and fog too much. When Ada, Rick and Esther appear, half an hour into the opening episode, it is a relief just to be in daylight for the first time. In some of the murkier scenes it was hard to see what was actually on my TV screen. I watched the whole thing in one day, starting in mid-afternoon. As daylight faded this became less of an issue, but I have a pretty good TV and I have never encountered this problem before at any time of day.
The pacing is very deliberate (i.e. slow). I am sure this was intensional, but it is overdone. There are numerous shots of people trudging though the muck and gloom of Victorian London that are held longer than is necessary to establish the mood and atmosphere. A good editor could probably take several minutes out of each fifty-minute episode, without losing a line of dialogue, just by trimming each of these scenes slightly.
I don't want to overstate these two problems. You soon adjust to the look and pace of this production. The more important issue is that it doesn't always tell the story very effectively. Earlier Dickens novels are as long as Bleak House, but are not nearly so intricately plotted. For example, I recently re-read Nicholas Nickleby because I was intrigued to see how Douglas McGrath crammed an 800 page book into his two-hour movie. The answer is simple: the book is full of padding. McGrath cut great swathes of the novel while still retaining all the essential story elements. This would not be possible with Bleak House.
This production needs its seven hours. Probably, it needs even longer, because many elements of its convoluted plot are not sufficiently clear, or as well handled, as they need to be. A few random examples will illustrate the problems.
The maid, Rosa, appears from nowhere with no background, so Lady Dedlock's attachment to her is largely unmotivated.
Sergeant George's acquiescence in Tulkinhorn's demand for a sample of Horton's handwriting is somewhat fudged.
It is not made clear enough that Esther is actually in love with Woodcourt when she agrees to marry John Jarndyce. Neither is it clear that they have agreed not to announce their engagement, or why.
Ada and Rick's secret marriage is omitted. In one episode they are merely lovers, in the next, people are suddenly referring to them as husband and wife.
Mrs Rouncewell is only introduced at a late stage in the story and Sargeant George's estrangement from his family is left unexplained - as is the means by which she is discovered.
Tulkinhorn's dedication to maintaining the honour and respectability of the Dedlock family is understated, so his motive for persecuting Lady Dedlock is more obscure than it need be.
The involvement of the brick makers with both Tom and (later) Lady Dedlock is somewhat opaque.
It is not obvious that Guppy renews his offer to Esther because her smallpox scars have all but vanished.
This is only a selection: there are others. They are not major problems and the main thrust of the story is clear enough. Nonetheless, they are minor irritations that detract from its power: you shouldn't have to puzzle over little plot points. However, there are more important structural problems that do weaken the story in its later stages.
The whole business of Tulkinhorn's murder is somewhat thrown away. Bucket immediately pinpoints Hortense as a suspect, which undermines the suspense of Sergeant George's predicament and the importance of finding Mrs Rouncewell. It also diminishes the impact of the sub-plot in which suspicion is thrown on Lady Dedlock and weakens the scene in which Hortense is unmasked in front of Sir Lester.
A more serious problem is that the murder, its investigation and the subsequent search for Lady Dedlock, dominate the story for over an hour, during which time we completely lose sight of the other main plot strand: the legal case and its effect on Rick. His failing finances, his gouging by Vholes and Skimpole, Ada's despair, his declining health and so on, are all put on hold for an entire episode. This may be how Dickens wrote the book (I haven't read it for years) but a good screenplay should keep the different plot strands moving forward together.
Finally, Smallweed's role in the story is so diminished that he is almost superfluous. His discovery of the new will, that triggers the final phase of the story, is also thrown away. It happens off screen.
Despite all of this, it is still a very good production. Many of the performances are outstanding. Individual scenes are beautifully realised. Its accumulating sense of tragedy is very powerful. I would still be recommending it as a superb adaptation of a great book, had it not been for the 2005 production. In fact, I probably wouldn't be fully aware of its defects if I hadn't seen how Andrew Davies did it better. I have been critical of Davies's Jane Austen adaptations, but I have to admit that he really knows how to tame Dickens's sprawling books.
This is an impressive and gripping drama and well worth seven hours of anybody's time. Nonetheless, its probable fate is to be viewed mainly as a cross-reference to the near-definitive 2005 version.
An earlier review, by pninson of Seattle, has already identified all the main shortcomings of this production. I can only amplify its basic arguments.
Bleak House was a relatively late Dickens novel and is much darker than his earlier work. This is taken too literally by the director, Ross Devenish, who piles on the gloom and fog too much. When Ada, Rick and Esther appear, half an hour into the opening episode, it is a relief just to be in daylight for the first time. In some of the murkier scenes it was hard to see what was actually on my TV screen. I watched the whole thing in one day, starting in mid-afternoon. As daylight faded this became less of an issue, but I have a pretty good TV and I have never encountered this problem before at any time of day.
The pacing is very deliberate (i.e. slow). I am sure this was intensional, but it is overdone. There are numerous shots of people trudging though the muck and gloom of Victorian London that are held longer than is necessary to establish the mood and atmosphere. A good editor could probably take several minutes out of each fifty-minute episode, without losing a line of dialogue, just by trimming each of these scenes slightly.
I don't want to overstate these two problems. You soon adjust to the look and pace of this production. The more important issue is that it doesn't always tell the story very effectively. Earlier Dickens novels are as long as Bleak House, but are not nearly so intricately plotted. For example, I recently re-read Nicholas Nickleby because I was intrigued to see how Douglas McGrath crammed an 800 page book into his two-hour movie. The answer is simple: the book is full of padding. McGrath cut great swathes of the novel while still retaining all the essential story elements. This would not be possible with Bleak House.
This production needs its seven hours. Probably, it needs even longer, because many elements of its convoluted plot are not sufficiently clear, or as well handled, as they need to be. A few random examples will illustrate the problems.
The maid, Rosa, appears from nowhere with no background, so Lady Dedlock's attachment to her is largely unmotivated.
Sergeant George's acquiescence in Tulkinhorn's demand for a sample of Horton's handwriting is somewhat fudged.
It is not made clear enough that Esther is actually in love with Woodcourt when she agrees to marry John Jarndyce. Neither is it clear that they have agreed not to announce their engagement, or why.
Ada and Rick's secret marriage is omitted. In one episode they are merely lovers, in the next, people are suddenly referring to them as husband and wife.
Mrs Rouncewell is only introduced at a late stage in the story and Sargeant George's estrangement from his family is left unexplained - as is the means by which she is discovered.
Tulkinhorn's dedication to maintaining the honour and respectability of the Dedlock family is understated, so his motive for persecuting Lady Dedlock is more obscure than it need be.
The involvement of the brick makers with both Tom and (later) Lady Dedlock is somewhat opaque.
It is not obvious that Guppy renews his offer to Esther because her smallpox scars have all but vanished.
This is only a selection: there are others. They are not major problems and the main thrust of the story is clear enough. Nonetheless, they are minor irritations that detract from its power: you shouldn't have to puzzle over little plot points. However, there are more important structural problems that do weaken the story in its later stages.
The whole business of Tulkinhorn's murder is somewhat thrown away. Bucket immediately pinpoints Hortense as a suspect, which undermines the suspense of Sergeant George's predicament and the importance of finding Mrs Rouncewell. It also diminishes the impact of the sub-plot in which suspicion is thrown on Lady Dedlock and weakens the scene in which Hortense is unmasked in front of Sir Lester.
A more serious problem is that the murder, its investigation and the subsequent search for Lady Dedlock, dominate the story for over an hour, during which time we completely lose sight of the other main plot strand: the legal case and its effect on Rick. His failing finances, his gouging by Vholes and Skimpole, Ada's despair, his declining health and so on, are all put on hold for an entire episode. This may be how Dickens wrote the book (I haven't read it for years) but a good screenplay should keep the different plot strands moving forward together.
Finally, Smallweed's role in the story is so diminished that he is almost superfluous. His discovery of the new will, that triggers the final phase of the story, is also thrown away. It happens off screen.
Despite all of this, it is still a very good production. Many of the performances are outstanding. Individual scenes are beautifully realised. Its accumulating sense of tragedy is very powerful. I would still be recommending it as a superb adaptation of a great book, had it not been for the 2005 production. In fact, I probably wouldn't be fully aware of its defects if I hadn't seen how Andrew Davies did it better. I have been critical of Davies's Jane Austen adaptations, but I have to admit that he really knows how to tame Dickens's sprawling books.
This is an impressive and gripping drama and well worth seven hours of anybody's time. Nonetheless, its probable fate is to be viewed mainly as a cross-reference to the near-definitive 2005 version.