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Reviews
After Henry (1988)
Rare wit and sensitivity
I discovered this show by chance on a trip to Ireland and was exhilarated by its comic freshness and unexpected poignancy. The three lead actresses and one lead actor had terrific chemistry, and the writing could make you belly laugh and sob almost simultaneously. It is a mystery to me that "After Henry" has not made its way to these shores, where I'm confident it would join the top ranks of most beloved Britcoms. Are the programmers at PBS all dead in their offices at this point? They would do well to retire their endless reruns of jukebox "specials" and seek out savvy, unfamiliar programs like "After Henry." (If I hear "Amazing Grace" warbled just one more time, there will be havoc in Mudville.)
Night Gallery: The Sins of the Fathers/You Can't Get Help Like That Anymore (1972)
Brace yourself, Bridget!
As the previous posters have attested, this was one of the most frightening things I ever saw--on TV or in a movie theater. The acting was superb, but it was the story, the foggy night forest that the desperate boy had to run through--round trip!--and especially the taut direction that so successfully created an atmosphere of crushing dread. The fear and contempt that The Widow showed for the hysterical young man before slamming the heavy wooden door behind him made my mouth go dry.
Without giving away what actually happens at the climax, I'll just say that, once it took place, my entire family began shrieking and running from the room in all directions.
Poe must have wept with jealousy. I only wish someone would release this on DVD. (N.B.: The only episode of TV horror equal to "Sins of the Fathers," in my opinion, is "An Unlocked Window," starring Dana Wynter, from "Alfred Hitchcock Presents," which aired in 1965. Have Valium on hand...lots of it.)
Performance: Hedda Gabler (1993)
The definitive Hedda
I have seen "Hedda Gabler" many times onstage and on film. As fine as several of the other actresses have been, no one has come close in my opinion to conveying the desperation that Hedda endures. Without a trace of mannerism or facile Victorian posing, Fiona Shaw shows us a woman not only of fury and ennui, but of thwarted tenderness and self-lacerating remorse. Her wincing regret over her own snide comments re someone's hat is painful to witness, and the way she sometimes stands with her arms folded behind her back, as if barely restraining herself from randomly striking someone, anyone, is a gesture that says as much about her as any of her dialogue. She and her brilliant director, Deborah Warner, rescue Hedda from the "harpy" archetype that less diligent hands have unjustly fashioned for her over the decades. (Though controversial to Ibsen purists at the time, the silent prologue Ms. Warner created for this production was as effective as any great overture ever created for the ear.) The supporting cast, which includes Stephen Rea, Donal McCann, Brid Brennan, and Nicholas Woodeson, is also first rate.
Long Day's Journey Into Night (1987)
Sublime version of a great play
Having once played Edmund Tyrone myself in summer stock back in 1976, and coming from an Irish-American family, I tend to be a tough critic of productions of this play. For my money, however, this is the most nuanced, well-acted production of LDJIN available. Lemmon perfectly embodies the combination of grandiosity and pettiness that comprise James Tyrone, Sr. Peter Gallagher is a finely poetic Edmund, and Kevin Spacey's Jamie is the most scalding portrait of self-loathing I have ever seen.
The linchpin of the story, for being everybody's scapegoat, is of course Mary Tyrone, and Bethel Leslie's performance is the bedrock and great surprise of this production. Her Mary is less affected and more internal than that of the lacier Katharine Hepburn, who to me always seemed to have one eye on the camera. Having grown up with a real M.T. in my own extended family, I can state from experience that Miss Leslie's "fogbound" portrayal is vastly more authentic, and, to me at least, the more heartbreaking for it.
A superb production all around.
The Alfred Hitchcock Hour: An Unlocked Window (1965)
Alas poor Minnie...
My mother was hospitalized for a broken arm (remember actual health care?), sharing a double room with a woman named Minnie, who was under observation for chest pains, talking to us on the phone when this show about a serial murderer of nurses came on. She called back around 90 minutes later to say that the suspense had proved so overwhelming for Minnie that Mom rang for the nurse to get her a sedative. Eyes locked on the screen, Minnie didn't even notice the nurse enter the room. The shocking on screen climax occurred just as the nurse spoke her name, and looking up to see an actual woman in hospital whites looming over her scared her so badly that Minnie screamed and had a heart attack then and there. She was still in the ICU when Mom was discharged the next day.
Screen Two: Memento Mori (1992)
Anything but deadly
I have had the pleasure of reading many of Muriel Spark's novels and stories, the first being "The Abbess of Crewe," whose deadpan satire of Watergate made me laugh so hard that I thought my face might freeze into a mask of idiot's delight. "Nasty Habits," its unfortunate film version, was a disappointment. I therefore feared an even sadder fate would befall any screen treatment of "Memento Mori," which has long since become my favorite of Ms. Spark's works, having, I think, the most impressive balance of satire and warmth in her entire oeuvre.
I was delighted, then, when I saw the film broadcast on PBS. To this day I can't decide whether the lion's share of the credit for its brilliance belongs to Maggie Smith and her fellow actors or to the director or the screenwriters. It doesn't matter; it's not my place to judge.
However, I have always been at a loss to understand why this effectively lost masterpiece has not been available to the public after all this time. Surely PBS or BBC America could at least air it again, so that we happy few who were blessed to have caught it might at least record it off the TV.
In the meantime, we will have to subsist on our fond memories.
Heavy, heavy sigh.
My Brilliant Career (1979)
Volcano in a Pinafore
An overlooked masterpiece. Not only did Gillian Armstrong's direction serve the material superbly, but Judy Davis's Sybilla was one of the boldest film debuts I've ever seen. The gasps heard all over the theater when Sam Neill is first seen (from Sybilla's POV in the tree) also made an indelible impression.
Perhaps most impressive is the screenplay, which greatly improves on what turned out to be a good novel so dated that it is all the more amazing that anyone ever thought to make it into a film. The musical score was also a delight.
Most confusing to me is that it has taken so long for it to be released on home video. A major addition to any thinking film-goer's home library.