Bramwell Series 1 and 2
Worth a Look
by Kristin Battestella
Young, stubborn Doctor
Eleanor Bramwell (Jemma Regrave) struggles to fit in with the male
dominated Victorian hospitals and instead opens a Thrift Street
Infirmary in the downtrodden East End – establishing 1995's
Bramwell
in
a worthy seven episode debut.
The
London 1895 operating theater opening
“The World of Man” is full of men with scalpels giving
instructions on removing ovaries to cure a woman's hysteria. Bloody
bandages and dirty rags visualize the risky surgical statistics as
our eponymous woman doctor suggests the opposite – would we cut off
the testicles of an unhappy man? Sass and piano music contrast the
amputation shockers as the upper glass gents barely tolerate this
annoying female. After all, it is a woman's fault if she can't have a
baby because her aristocrat husband gave her syphilis! Female tears
and men's dirty secrets make it difficult for a doctor to find the
truth, and Bramwell
goes
for the heavy topics early. Rather than have medicine bow to social
graces, our lady finds new causes via her Thrift Street Infirmary.
However, the clinic gets off to a rocky start with chloroform but no
masks, delicate bowel surgeries, and jerky patients high and low
wanting morphine or champagne amid vaudeville songs, bawdy humor, and
a little romance with Shirley Anne Field (Lady Chatterley) in
“The Threat of Reprise.” Our doctors promise not to talk about
blood and gore when meeting the bishop for a donation, but they will
poor tea and discuss urine tests and gutting patients. Drunken men
just don't want a woman operating on them, and Bramwell
layers
The Thrift cases,
personal dramas, and underlying themes per episode as mistakes are
made and lessons are learned in this still relatively barbaric time
in medicine. Sadly, a laundry woman in labor and her husband Idris
Elba (Prometheus)
fear they'll be found out in “The Outcast's Baby” as of the time
whispers about not having delivered any black babies add to the “But
she's English!” racist reactions. Fine performances make up for
anything on the nose as heathen jokes and thieving suspicions add to
the primitive attitudes before a premature breach birth, blood loss,
and antiquated equipment lead to gruesome conflicts at the all
important society dinner party. Wet nurses must be bribed, everyone
argues if the child belongs with its black father or in a white
orphanage, and Bramwell's
dilemmas
don't always have an easy answer.
However,
Bramwell's
Second
eight episode 1996 Season
struggles with an uneven start before a strong mid-season thanks to
the cholera outbreak of “The New Formula.” Vomiting and boiling
water escalate to quarantines and radical new medicines – The
Thrift is ill equipped for such contagious crowds and blood
everywhere. Doctors disagree on the source, disinfecting the ward,
and how to treat foreign patients. The more ambitious physicians
accept the treatment risks, jeopardizing one to save another with
desperate and ambiguous but necessary decisions resulting in shocking
miscalculations and upsetting fatalities. “The International
Connection” begins with stereotypical Native American views and
judging intelligence on the size of the so-called sub race skull as
imperial rich white attitudes decide it's better for a poor child to
be adopted abroad. This suave would be savior claims he's helping the
children even as he calls them dumb, dirty urchins prone to steal and
shouts at his fainting and bruising young wife Kelly Reilly (Eden Lake). Barbaric
positions on battered women, self harm, and the measure of human
intelligence being the deciding factor on how you treat a person are
rightfully called ridiculous while those who stand up because the
needs of the child are more important are berated as sentimental and
spineless. This is a surprisingly timely and strong episode layering
several issues. Alas, the street fair, fun house mirrors, and
bemusing mermaids of “The
Carnival Attraction” lead to monstrous stigmas and dangerous
surgeries to correct a girl's facial deformity. Is she better off in
the freak show or risking an operation for a chance at a normal life?
The procedure goes forth despite disagreements on the course of
action, employer interference, and the possibility of brain damage.
Once again, The Thrift oversteps its bounds of care amid abuse,
abandonment, and blame before a post-carriage accident exam reveals a
lady patient is really male prostitute Hans Matheson (The Tudors)
in “The Identity Loss.” Our female
doctor understands the role reversal despite others' homophobia and
sodomite pointing fingers hypocrisy. They cut his long hair over his
preference for a feminine appearance, and when he's attacked by other
patients, the police don't exactly care. No one's willing to donate
blood for a jury rigged transfusion, and although he's conflicted at
his so-called wickedness, he asks what he did wrong. While this is a
very topical episode today, in the mid-nineties such themes were not
often discussed, yet sophomore Bramwell
does
so a year before Dr.
Quinn: Medicine Woman
does in its fifth season.
Unfortunately,
Bramwell does have several
less than stellar outings including “The Doctor's Committal”
when the Thrift staff go looking for tuberculous and find a foul
mouthed man refusing to admit he's in ill health. The gentleman
doctors at the club have wealthy patients throwing their money away
on new, unproven electric therapy, but our doctors won't walk away
from those who don't want to be saved – and intrude right into
their family affairs with elite no divorce attitudes and
institutionalizing a man who'd rather live in uncouth happy squalor
over upper class fronting. When doctors are causing trouble rather
than helping, it makes for an unlikable hour. Bramwell has
an early series arc establishing the clinic, but most episodes
are individual crusades of the week with heavy social commentaries
and no lighthearted breaks, simple Victorian cases, or explorations
on the supporting cast. The overall drama is fine, but early in Year
Two, A/B style plotlines tackle too much. Newfangled elevators, rail
cars, and train delays lead to a well done disaster with sideways
cameras, screaming zooms, and darkness in “The Rule of Thuggery.”
Rescuing those trapped, leg injuries, broken arms, and dangerous
debris provide fine shocks in this Series Two premiere as in the
field amputations without morphine escalate into lingering trauma and
gangrene. Sadly, this disaster plot degrades into thugs coercing
patients because a crook wants to launder his dirty money through the
infirmary. The gangster charity cum East End intimidation is hammy
when neighborhood strong arming could have been an ongoing issue
instead of shoehorning such themes into another story. St. Jude's
Hospital is looking for a clinic assistant in “The Strain of
Conscience,” and the stuffy committee that won't hire women makes
Eleanor prove herself yet again by taking a test when there's a
pregnant teen prostitute at The Thrift asking for an abortion so her
pimp won't beat and starve her. Our lady doctor will probably always
have to prove herself, but social vindication should not be what's
the more important plot here.
Jemma Redgrave (Holby
City
and yes of those
Redgraves) as Doctor Eleanor Bramwell chooses to be a surgeon in East
End, eighteen inch waists and fainting spells be damned! She's not
afraid to stand between an angry man and his quarry if medicine and
compassion warrant, for her goal is to preserve the healthy and to
work where she's needed, treating people regardless of what kind of
person they are – an admirable but not always practical quest.
Eleanor crudely sews a skirt into wide leg trousers to ride her
bicycle and gets loud with unruly patients at The Thrift. She's both
educated and determined but inexperienced as a doctor and often in
over her head. Eleanor will crusade for the poor even when terrible
people don't deserve such care yet she gets snotty with her frumpy
society patients and looks down on a dance hall maven. Her judgment
is clouded, and Bramwell
allows
its lead to be imperfect. Although sometimes
the pursed lips and scene chewing is obvious, Eleanor can also be
stubborn and fresh to those who help her, and she's too busy taking
on every battle to notice when others exhaust themselves for her
cause. Despite child welfare and labor injuries, “The Thrift of the
Hunter” is the first time anything other than doctoring gets her
attention – and it's the titular too good to be true neurologist
who's curious about this radical lady surgeon. Scandals, marriages of
convenience, and deceptions make for a more personal, humanizing
episode as Eleanor cries at her bureau over men making her look the
fool. The Series One finale “The Ideal Suitor” also has men
arguing over how strong willed women need strong willed men, and
Eleanor is taken down a peg over the barefisted boxing, army
uniforms, and knockout injuries. She insists she's not a schoolgirl,
but the awkward courting leads to a choice between marriage or
medicine, for in this era, a woman can't do both. Blind patients and
brain surgery are also tense enough without Bramwell
resorting
to sexual violence threats as proof of why she needs a man to protect
her, but
Series Two has her neglecting her clinic for a charming Irish rogue.
It's surprising to see her crusade so easily dropped since the entire
show is about her being emphatically against the malaise of high end
medicine, but by “The Final Days” Season Two finale, Eleanor is
off on a secret weekend vacation with her best gowns and hair down,
forgetting any medical disagreements with Doctor O'Neill when they
are mistaken for Mr. and Mrs. Bramwell. Maybe she's always meant to
be unlucky in love, however it's frustrating that she can be so naive
and emotionally attached to a man who does not give or earn her
professional respect.
David Calder (Widows)
as Eleanor's father Robert is often caught in the middle between the
man's man doctoring and when his daughter is in the right. He wants
her to tend the ladies in his private practice, but warns high horse
Eleanor when she meddles with patient emotions or vulnerability
without any social discretion or considering their own family
reputation. Robert wishes her late mother had been there to soften
their daughter rather than let the hard world harden her, but he has
a medicinal whiskey with Eleanor each night whether she heeds his
regimental surgeon expertise or not. Kind Dad gives up his train seat
to a little girl, goes on house calls despite his own broken arm, and
tries to set up his uninterested daughter with a former soldier
friend when not objecting to her new style low cut gown. He still
wants to pick the man to look after Eleanor, failing to realize she
doesn't need looking after by anyone. Robert's often angry over the
risks at The Thrift and the surgical dangers at such improper
facilities but in his own practice he'd rather not cheat a patient or
tell them what they want to hear – making an enemy of important
colleagues who provide high society placebos. However, certain cases
also bring back painful wartime memories, and Robert questions his
daughter's ambition when her patients are caught in the crossfire.
When she lies about her relationships with men, Robert's shocked by
her behavior yet relents on her romance because he is a good father
who loves her regardless. In “The Return of the Betrayer” the
elder Bramwell begrudgingly allows his penniless sister to return
home amid the upscale dinner parties, sing a longs, and well earned
fellowships threatened by her arrival. It's twenty years too late for
forgiving her debts or scandalous living in sin with a married man,
and this hour is one of the stronger episodes from Year Two in
balancing both the at home and the hospital. Eleanor suggests her
aunt take on The Thrift administrator role, and it might have been
interesting to have a charming, outspoken society dame as a recurring
character. Unfortunately, this spicy sister can't quite get
respectable thanks to a young doctor Andrew Lincoln (The
Walking Dead).
Kevin McMonagle's (Your
Cheatin' Heart) Scottish Doctor Joe Marsham is also right when he
says Eleanor brings everything on herself. He's comes to Thrift
Street as a part time anesthetist before becoming a full time surgeon
not afraid to tell it like it is to patients or either Bramwell.
Marsham plays the soundboard for both father and daughter, toeing the
line on their high ideals as needed because loyalty to the patient is
the more important than lining his pockets. Though married and forced
to do a dangerous operation on his own daughter, Marsham's jealous of
Eleanor's suitors, saying she has more understanding that his wife
and her strength is often what keeps him going. She likewise relies
on his peacekeeping, but Marsham deflects on his true feelings to
keep their friendship undamaged. He takes his doctoring seriously and
wants everybody to pretend like they are in a proper infirmary
without all their emotional turmoil. Andrew Connolly's (Fair City)
introduction as St. Jude's doctor Finn O'Neill, however, is much more
upfront. He doesn't want a woman doctor at his hospital but any
antagonism with Eleanor is forgotten in half an episode – he wants
her to lecture and loves her unusual personality! Of course, she uses
his research opportunity to shock all her male colleagues with her
latest infirmary case, and using a patient to prove a point impresses
him. Finn also tosses out an ill woman running into his hospital
screaming for help, and he's a two faced, unlikable example of what's
wrong with medicine then and now. Eleanor
calls him out over his using her infirmary when it suits him, but
Bramwell rushes their
relationship with his soulmates talk, making her look the
other way when people die amid his trial and error medical science.
He claims he's dedicated to saving lives and will do whatever it
takes to treat the sick, glowing things Eleanor falls for while her
father rightfully calls him a seducer and scheming opportunist. He
confesses his love and asks for her hand in marriage a little late –
after everyone is supposedly overreacting over his scandalous
history.
Former patient and
amputee Bentley becomes porter at The Thrift, using his crutch
against unruly ruffians a time or two. Although as the series
progresses, he goes sans support and Bramwell
goes
out of its way to never show Cliff Parisi's (EastEnders)
from the knees down, leaving the audience to forget his missing
foot rather than address any struggle. In Series Two, Ben Brazier
(Layer
Cake)
as Bentley's equally sarcastic son Sidney helps at the infirmary, and
both have a cantankerously endearing relationship with Ruth Sheen's
(Another
Year)
Nurse Ethel Carr. Initially there as required, Nurse Carr makes an
interesting counterpoint to the doctors with her affectionate bedside
manner. She rightly prescribes that sometimes all a young patient
needs is love and stands by Eleanor even when struck by attackers.
Bentley calls her the pearl in his oyster who's a pain in his ass and
“soft as shit,” but Nurse Carr enjoys giving Sidney some tough
love. She confronts Eleanor too, thinking the doctor is often her own
worst enemy for picking the wrong battles over the wrong clientele.
Keeley Gainey (No
Bananas)
as Kate the Bramwell's long time maid is also solid as maids go,
remaining supportive and praying for patients, but Bramwell
could have done much more with its ensemble, focusing on their
plights or dilemmas rather than tackling so many big issues. Michele
Dotrice (Some
Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em)
as the ward's widowed benefactor Lady Cora Peters is initially
shocked and fainting, but she wants to be where her wealth will do
good. She handles the clinic's administration while charming more
dough from other elites. Despite growing frail herself, Lady Cora
wears a brave face and questions why Eleanor always criticizes or
creates problems where there are none. It could have been fun to see
her become more medically hands compared to Robert Hardy's (All
Creatures Great and Small)
mean, arrogant Doctor Herbert Hamilton. He'd rather do a hysterectomy
on a healthy woman to cover for her noble husband, and Eleanor
rightly calls him a greedy, past it charlatan placing politics above
medicine when he tells her women were only made to be wives. He
presents himself as doing no wrong in “The Trust of Kings,” but
even his young medical students question his practice. Hamilton
refuses to take The Thrift seriously, denying their use of a new
x-ray machine and doing a patient more harm by ignoring overexposure
warnings. He prescribes laudanum for the rich and misdiagnoses a
woman as emotional when it is really a then fatal appendix. Typical!
Such maids, tea time, and
English decorum add to Bramwell's
late
Victorian feathers, top hats, long skirts, fitted jackets, puffy
sleeves, silk frocks, pocket watches, and white gloves. Those giant
sleeves seem just a little impractical amid the blood splattered
surgery aprons, medical bags, and nurses caps! How does all that
fabric get into the tighter fitting coats? Despite candlelight
dinners, gas lamps, ink blotters, crystal, pianos, and carriages; the
downtrodden cobblestone and industrial mood remain gritty
and dirty thanks to leeches, gross autopsies, intestines, bone saws,
and onscreen amputations. Bramwell
is
a
more realistic drama compared to the romantic, bright, western style
of the earlier set but released two years prior Dr.
Quinn: Medicine Woman.
The subdued palette and older, flat picture isn't very colorful,
however, that adds to that East End bitter, primitive Victorian
medical equipment, retro needles, vintage tourniquets, and bad teeth.
Bicycles, boat races, and park strolls provide some whimsy amid
cluttered period interiors relying on window light schemes – early
microscopes, flash powder cameras, tea cups, and walking sticks carry
an old fashioned charm. I chuckle also at every episode title needing
an unnecessary “the,” and you could have a drinking game for
every time they say “anesthetist” with their decidedly British
pronunciation. Brief crass language and slang are also nothing too
offensive or overly Cockney amid each largely dialogue driven fifty
minutes. Ten episodes from Series One and Two were written by Lucy
Gannon (Peak
Practice)
with director David Tucker (A
Very Peculiar Practice)
helming eleven hours of Bramwell,
creating a cohesive but sensitive journey for our lady doctor.
Bramwell is
a fine period drama not only less saccharin than the more well known
Dr.
Quinn, but
easier to marathon thanks to its shorter seasons. Topical issues and
the breaking of Victorian taboos are well presented in a likable
feminine frame, making Bramwell
a
fine little piece that shouldn't
be overlooked.
