Neighbours 1985-89

The Neighbours Watch: 1985–1989

by Kristin Battestella

When Amazon revived the then-canceled Australian soap opera Neighbours in 2022, they also offered on demand episode batches from the show's thirty year history. However, these "iconic episodes" were abrupt highlights leaving frustrating story gaps and cliffhangers. Thankfully, the new Official Neighbours Classics YouTube Channel provides viewers like me who didn't see the eighties heights on Ramsay Street a chance to witness the entire saga in order. While bemusingly pleasant and perfect for background viewing, the 1985-89 seasons of Neighbours offer a lot of good, plenty of bad, and even some ugly pastiche. And I don't mean the mullets. I hate mullets!

Finding its Legs

Honestly, I'm not surprised Neighbours was initially canceled after its dull 1985 debut season before being rescued on a new network with the 1986 arrival of Anne Charleston as Madge Mitchell, nee Ramsay. I dislike her brother Max's gruff, Tom Ramsay's copycat replacement, and was also totally annoyed by the original Lucy Robinson and all the bad things that happen to her. To keep the cul de sac wholesome, Neighbours offers villainous meaty to contract guests like Andrea with the paternity lies or recurring high school pests like Sue Parker – giving them more attention than a main cast that isn't fully developed. The Classic YouTube channel options to watch single episodes or weekly blocks highlights this uneven story balance that permeates throughout Neighbours. Heavy plots and humorous to-dos are given equal weight with major crises resolved in a word. Contests and schemes can be so simple but serious kidnappings and thefts or medical emergencies are minor compared to the scandals of American soaps in the eighties. The starving old lady neighbour they don't really know and her sad dog are one of several compelling, unexpected storylines superior to the increasing teen drama, but on and off again relationships or pranks between characters are often forgotten the following week. The nature of any soap opera is to rinse and repeat, and marathoning now reveals just how much Neighbours continually recycles. This quickly becomes a disservice to Geoff Paine as Clive Gibbons, who is the hero doctor, class clown, or poetic sage of Ramsay Street as needed. His romantic plots are perpetually short term D.O.A.s contributing to the revolving guest door. Fortunately, Elaine Smith's former stripper Daphne Lawrence is our mature anchor; a strong independent character providing support to the youths while running her own coffee shop and doing right for herself. Her back and forth romance with Shane goes on too long amid several false starts with Daphne and Paul Keane as Des Clarke but their marital stories are superb. Anne Haddy's grandmother Helen Daniels is excellent in tackling all the ups and downs of raising a family, business dilemmas, and mid-life romance. She even gets a few unfortunately short-lived scandals! As a new viewer who had only see Amazon's piecemeal, it's great to see the entire rekindling between migraine inducing Madge and Ian Smith as lovable fuddy-duddy Harold Bishop. Basil begats Bouncer for a host of canine themed plots, and the Ramsay Street Olympics sets off what Neighbours does best – slice of life stories involving the entire ensemble. Cross country excursions gone wrong and lost in the bush stories here are better than the Revival's more recent Outback escapades because rather than focusing on guest villains, the suspense remains Ramsay and Robinson immediate.

Middle-aged housewives and grandmothers were the soap opera watchers of the day, but here those ladies are the ones who get things done. Neighbours is very good when the funny plots and serious stories are well interwoven. Madge learns to drive and Bouncer solves Helen's haunted apartment. Choir gossip has everyone believing Harold is an animal in the sack, and his car accident has not one but three ladies point fingers and taking him into their care. An entire episode is dedicated to poker playing men in one house and women playing scrabble in another, and it's high drama arguing about the funny money and dictionaries. Harold's bucks party also offers orange juice, Mozart, and his tie salesman mini me son David, and when The Ramsays and The Robinsons are forced to live together, the petty little tensions are delicious. Alan Fletcher – later to become Neighbours' Doctor Karl Kennedy – is here as a fill-in mechanic of the week, and the infectious introduction of Lucinda Cowden as Melanie Pearson is great fun. Annie Jones as Jane Harris is also a consistent delight. “Plain Jane Super Brain” goes through many important storylines with arcs and growth allowing the character to mature rather than stagnate. Postpartum depression was not often addressed in 1987, and initially this is a powerful plot for Daphne before the story devolves into the jealous husband feeling left out so the wife has to favor both man and baby. Amazon really dropped the ball in not providing all the classic episodes, as being able to see Daphne's exit in full is some of Neighbours' best. Myra de Groot as mother-in-law Eileen Clarke is likewise brilliant in everything from bad salmon mousse to remarrying Des' father Malcolm. Secret adoptions, pill abuse with a baby in jeopardy, depression, and starvation are excellent, emotional stories. The wedding cake is destroyed, love triangles commence, and the adult drama on Neighbours is leaps and bounds above the repetitive youth plots thanks to the spiteful crone that is Vivean Gray as Nell Mangel. Her hideous portrait is charming as is her Dear Georgette advice column. Mrs. Mangel and Eileen Clarke read tea leaves and misinterpreted psychic predictions ensue. We love to hate her even when Mrs. Mangel loses her memory and has a heart attack – using her health to earn just a bit of sympathy when she only has herself to blame if no one on Ramsay Street actually likes her except Bouncer. I'm glad Nell Mangel, Wedding Coordinator from Hell gets threatened for her meddling but also receives her own marital send off, for her departing flashbacks don't shy away from all the wonderful trouble she wrought.

Unfortunately by the late eighties, Neighbours skews younger and younger with the recast Lucy coming and going on school holidays for childlike stupids or attempted teen sophistication as needed. New kids crowd the Robinson house, and Alan Dale as Jim Robinson deals with lookalike women Ruth and Beverly when Zoe was better. Critical business ventures and financial Robinson ruin take a backseat while lawn mowing schemes repeat the departed Shane and Clive. Teens fail at frozen pizza experiments and problematic children become contrived tangents. Henry Ramsay gets on my nerves immediately, and it's tough to tell who is going to be permanent and who's just a guest with everyone after Russell Crowe's brief stint detracting from the core cul de sac. Why are the Italian guests stereotypical Lotharios? Neighbours finally has an Aboriginal but unfortunately negative story with a burial ground interfering in the Lassiter's hotel development. Stefan Dennis' manager Paul Robinson claims he respects their beliefs but presents the building plans as if what's best for The Daniel's Corporation is paramount for everyone. Losing the strong women who would object hurts Neighbours, and the unhealthy looking, thin, glassy eyed cast seems like the soap stardom is getting to them. Oft the bread and butter of stateside soaps, courtroom drama largely happens off screen, recounted after the fact while going house to house with food. So much food! Neighbours jumps the shark with a ridiculous, garish church sock hop, and a Yankee modeling executive suddenly dropping engagement diamonds on Jane is just a preposterous nothing burger. It gets old fast when Henry and Bronwyn bounce from house to house and ruin something every week. Helen has a stroke but it's more important that Henry blame Bronwyn for going back to school and not paying enough attention to him. His voice impersonations and murder mystery dress up are asinine not funny – coming off as dumb and desperate attempts to keep luring in young viewers. Weeks are spent on Nick and Sharon running away, on the road with a dollar to their name and shoveling chicken shit before rushing back to Ramsay Street at the first emergency. Instead of slice of life ensemble storytelling, Neighbours leans on youthful minutia that's really a disservice to the cast and the audience. By 1989, new characters are already borrowing from earlier stories and repeating the teen angst.

The Scott and Charlene Conundrum

Marathoning these weekly blocks, teen power couple Jason Donovan as Scott Robinson and Kylie Minogue as Charlene Mitchell are immediately insufferable with back and forth professions of love and fighting over the dumbest things flip flopping from episode to episode – sometimes in scene as needed. Repeated music montage flashbacks at the playground and rescues from blown up trailers can't disguise how their grating gets old fast. Even other characters question if they had a dime every time Scott and Charlene broke up over annoying money making schemes, idiotic scams, and their own stupidity. I get that they're teens with all over the place emotions. However their contrivances are one of the weakest stories on Neighbours, and I can't fathom how this was the most popular moment of the entire series. Today high schoolers marrying at seventeen just to move in with parents next door and have sex feels more backwoods than progressive. The measles scare the night before the wedding was their best moment, and I wish the nuptials had been Scott and Charlene's show exit. Scott fails his exams and goes job hunting on a skateboard; they literally lose cash constantly but people continually loan the couple money. Interesting dilemmas are shoved aside for more and more Scott and Charlene because no one knows how to live on love but them! Each teen becomes so distraught and delusional that their families apologize for wanting rent. Between arguing about his homework and her apprenticeship, each also gets the wandering eye in totally pure flirtations cum excuses for misunderstandings and repeated wedding flashbacks. They scream that if one walks out the door, the marriage is over but it's children playing Dynasty. That extramarital canoodling leads to Scott wanting to have a band aid baby, which is a terrible idea and everyone tells them so. Such a plot should have never been suggested, and Neighbours would have my utmost recommendation if I could skip over the Scott and Charlene melodrama. Our intrepid couple become the heroes of every story – uncovering corrupt business partners, nabbing incriminating photos of bad guys, offering wisdom to struggling couples, and resolving almost every plot with their innocent can do. Charlene's lucky coin goes missing and she cries to Scott's boss that he's working three jobs and can't spend time with her. So instead Charlene's departs and an obnoxious model tries to seduce poor, lonely Scott. Maybe Scott and Charlene marrying so frigging soon was actually a damn storytelling mistake? A scandalous book and murder plots on par with American soap malicious are dropped for yet another chaste kissing dilemma. Are we supposed to feel sorry for Scott because so many babes tempt him? Every frustrating non-dalliance drags on with Scott insisting he is right no matter how many others point out he is flat wrong. In the end he even blames the “backward” stereotypical Greeks for their restrictive values, and I cannot tell you how glad I was when Scott unceremoniously disappears.

Now then as to Guy Pearce as Mike Young – the impetus for this Neighbours excursion. I've been doing a Career Re-Watch of his oeuvre, but you would never know Pearce was going to become one of our best contemporary actors by seeing his mullet, baby face, and amateur delivery here. Despite appearing in more than 900 episodes, there isn't a whole lot for Mike to do except make the smoothies and eat the food in the background at the coffee shop. Of Neighbours' oft misguided musical attempts, Pearce's actually playing the saxophone is the most fun but it's used the least. After his earnest abusive introduction, most of Mike's storylines are the same girl troubles – first on and off with Nikki then off and on with Jane. There are random Canberra chicks, swimming babes, and more meaningless flings, and Jane shoves a cake in his face over it. She worries that every time he takes a trip, he falls for another girl, and I'll be damn Neighbours has been giving Mike the same stories for forty years! Even Bouncer gets more adventures than Mike. He bullies an Aboriginal ex-schoolmate but it's just a prank, and the show experiments with Mike going bad or doing humorous skits because Neighbours doesn't really know what to do with him despite the well done post-Daphne tears and revenge. Des and Mike as bachelor dads in search of a nanny would have been a great sitcom, but Mike's too often the sidekick with increasingly less appearances. Granted, Pearce asked for filming breaks to pursue less than stellar films but the gaps in his episodes reveal how little he was actually used. The Bronwyn romance just repeats the Jane school drama and love triangle with Henry. When Mike finally becomes a teacher, he's caught in a kissing a student plot before a sabbatical on his motorcycle. Paralyzing Jenny in a motorcycle accident is arguably Mike's biggest story yet it all happens off screen. His leather jacket means Mike has an attitude now, and it's ironic that sullying the character actually gives Pearce more to do. Of course, Henry's comedy undercuts the dark dream sequences and wheelchair-bound guilt, and the disabled obligations are resolved with little fanfare. After repeat teaching strife, Mike is the villain against Des and Jane's engagement, leaning over people's shoulders with passive aggressive petty insults. The whole street tells him to grow up, boo hoo yet feigns smiles for his Ramsay Street birthday party – until Henry runs over his saxophone. Mike admits his duplicity when trying to win back Bronwyn just for spite, and had Mike been a deceptive social climber sooner, it might have been more interesting. Instead these brooding non-stories wasted time with him Neighbours did not have. Happy couples want him to be an enthusiast best man, so his drunken one night stands and pithy bitchings are suddenly dropped. One wonders why Neighbours had him return for a handful of late 1989 episodes when new viewers probably wouldn't know who he is or why he's off to visit his injured mother with no real exit. I can certainly see why Pearce was initially displeased with his original time on Neighbours, for he looks healthier in the end, as if the burden of Neighbours had been lifted from his shoulders. That single dangling crescent moon earring though, would wear!

Messy Declines and Departures

Though once pleasant nostalgic viewing, by the second half of 1989, I am pretty over Neighbours, too. It's frustrating to read that the producers deliberately mirrored Scott and Charlene in other characters, continually referenced them onscreen, and didn't even change the credits because they didn't want viewers to know they were completely gone. The revolving cast door only gets more crowded with obnoxious kid do-overs and even younger tween kisses. Interesting characters like pesky aunt Mrs. Chubb, banker Penelope Porter, tacky stepmother Gloria Lewis, and Jane's selfish mother Amanda Harris are too brief. Overheard secrets on Katie's walkie talkie sow dissent about how everyone really feels in a deliciously simple way to drive several plots at once but the conflicts are resolved too quickly. The grating dialogue for Joe Mangel is also extremely jarring, and it's rich that he becomes the hero over his ex-wife's new abusive husband when he is a cruel, heavy handed father to little Toby. Helen's stroke and her struggle to paint again should have been primary, but another crazy seductress makes moves on Jim, and for all the funny lighthearted things that make Neighbours so cheery, the show seemed to realize the need for darker, if now predictable stories as the eighties sunshine waned. New people are treated as filler when too many regulars have breaks around the same time, and recurring ladies like Anne Scott-Pendlebury as Hilary Robinson should have always been permanent. Hilary and Mrs. Chubb's too brief humorous moments together could have been such gold! A big to-do is made whenever someone comes back from a trip/break/excuse, and then the episode is spent filling in the returning person on what we've been watching – as if Neighbours deliberately kept resetting for viewers each week in lieu of what else to do. Many storylines are isolated rather than true dialogue confidences, and characters who don't usually interact onscreen are presumed to be BFFs in the know as the lazy gardening partnerships repeat and loud, boorish tangents overtake important moments. Hilary feigns injury sympathies just as Mrs. Mangel had and every week a different kid is running away when not having another pet mishap. Neighbours copies itself when provocative drama like Sharon starving herself is better than Bouncer in peril and Toby's weekly sadness. Linda Harley-Clark as Harold's hippie daughter Kerry Bishop is initially an independent activist who nannies in Des' house where she and their kids thrive. Unfortunately, Kerry's then inexplicably paired with Joe and is forced to repent on each of her principles. Kerry frees birds, feeds homeless, and protest kangaroo products yet she is unnecessarily portrayed as the villain who doesn't stop to consider if her actions will make the hotel look bad.

Instead of prioritizing well done extortion plots, terrible dads, and serious family ensembles, characters bend for the dilemma of the week in foreseeable, silly plots or relationship misunderstandings because there are three engaged couples at the same time. Fortunately, Hilary moves to the cul de sac with a mysterious son, and the Sharon/Matthew/Nick triangle would have been far more intriguing had the latent homosexual angle been utilized, but I realize Neighbours in the eighties wouldn't dare. Hilary also has a romance and tries to be hip by going to see Friday the 13^th Part 6 with the kids. The show returns to its roots with feuding Ramsays and Robinsons cutting each other's trees and dyeing the pool purple. Everyone has a health emergency at the same time, and it's actually pretty fun, unlike the contrived threats on Todd and Katie coming or going until Katie is actually written out after being unnecessarily prominent. Thanks to her being overused in every major story line, Jane's exit is also abrupt, grinding Neighbours to a halt as elder abuse plots and the briefly returning Clive can't save all the pointless misunderstandings. However I'm so glad to see the back of Henry especially after the radio show obnoxiousness where everyone else did his work for him off the air. Paul's villainy begins by bribing a councilman for a variance, but of course he's screwed over and repeatedly scammed by rookie employees, too. Fiona Corke's Gail Lewis is Paul's perfect match, but her story unfortunately degrades into silly baby brain shoplifting convictions. Most of their marriage fallout strangely happens off screen, yet it also makes the audience realize how impossible triplets would have been on the show. Paul's dramatic race to the airport is quite sad, and Gail's exit is another huge loss for Neighbours – leaving Des filling numerous gaps with phone calls from absent people before recounting everything to Melanie. Paul's on break so Des manages the hotel but then Des takes a break so Jim's running everything while Clive and Melanie now live in Des' house. There's no rhyme or reason to who is where with even a new minister on Ramsay Street as a love interest played for laughs with Melanie – but at least we see the origin of her pig collection! Even the Dear Georgette column returns, as if characters are defined by their jobs but jobs are interchangeable. There's even a clothes swap meet where prominent garments end up on different characters because personal style no longer matters. New people not in the credits, residents referred to no longer on the show, returning people inexplicably picking up where they left off – viewers stopped tuning in to Neighbours because we don't know who's on the dang show.

When updated titles finally happen, the poolside hi-jinks are recreated with new people as if audiences aren't supposed to notice the difference. Neighbours chose to stagnant, repeat, and replace without ever moving forward, and I'm amazed the soap survived this eighties cast exodus. 1989 was really a struggle to finish; I gave 1990 a few months but just didn't care about these strangers on Ramsay Street. Did I like Neighbours? Yes! I'm glad I had the opportunity to watch all the sunshine eighties heights. The Classic YouTube Channel format provides far more entertainment than Amazon's giveth and taketh. There were segments I thoroughly enjoyed, but the good is often too interlaced with the bad. Does Neighbours have the repeat value of stateside soap opera titans? That I don't know. I need to see Neighbours' 2010 “Who pushed P.R.?” drama in its entirety to be sure.

Bramwell Seasons 3 and 4

Sadly Bramwell Series 3 and 4 Go Downhill Fast

by Kristin Battestella

Doctor Eleanor Bramwell (Jemma Redgrave) continues to run the Thrift Street Infirmary with anesthetist Joseph Marsham (Kevin McMonagle) in the uneven 1997 ten episode Season Three of Bramwell. Despite personal tragedies and household upheavals, Doctor Robert Bramwell (David Calder) courts the wealthy Alice Costigan (Maureen Beattie), leaving Eleanor free for more romance as the series whimpers on with two faulty feature length episodes in Year Four. 

 

Already Bramwell is off on the wrong foot with “The Overnight Stay” as drunkards and burning accidents at the local brewery begat pain, shouting, hysterical mothers, and emergency hectic. If one didn't see the previous series, you wouldn't know what's happening, and all the screaming, poisoned patients, and alcoholism heavy handedness are forgotten once the romance returns for our eponymous lady doctor. The statements and forced melodrama remain uneven as the rekindled but over the top sappy drags on at the expense of everything else. Although it's immediately clear that ten hours is entirely too long a season, the second episode is much stronger and Bramwell improves greatly when focusing on the ensemble's personal and professional drama instead of this contrived, dead end love affair. Spending time without Eleanor in Episode Five ironically makes the show better, and it makes the audience wonder if she could have been written off or replaced as Year Three continues to fall apart with “The Beaten Wife.” Festive jubilee preparations contrast the downtrodden streets and shanty town house calls, however the severe split skulls and abusive bloody are cut short when the doctor once again ditches The Thrift for her boyfriend. Paralleling a truly terrible situation with her la dee da and the perceived problems of her subsequent break up is an embarrassing juxtaposition. Bramwell remembers it's medical premise with goiters, boils, infected abscesses, and dubious diagnosis in “The Faith Healer,” but patients are turning to religious healers and what the doctors call mumbo jumbo. Everyone is shouting, irrational, and angry at the perceived backward superstition against science. Sick patients who really need a doctor are walking out of the clinic, but Bramwell doesn't handle multiple medical issues per episode for most of this season, and the religious healing versus fatal fire and brimstone quackery never makes a stand either way in an aimless entry indicative of the season's unnecessary pains.

Jemma Redgrave's Doctor Eleanor Bramwell shouts at her staff and talks back to her father over her latest high horse cause, yet she's the one who isn't seeing to her patients because she's too busy getting some steamy. Our intelligent, hard working woman is once again ready to dump The Thrift for her marriage plans. Eleanor's angry at everyone else, but when she says another is strong in medicine but weak and foolish in the heart, we know she's talking about herself. The character shines much, much more as a woman and a doctor in a time ruled by men when only she is able to comfort an ill mother with a feminine gravitas. However, Bramwell spends most of its time with Eleanor moping, embarrassing herself in public, and threatening to close her clinic because a man didn't rescue her from being a spinster doctor. She runs away to stay with a friend for “The Mercenary Expecting,” but Eleanor isn't happy with any country idyllic or matchmaking and yells at the maid. Her friends are so, so tired of it, but she picks a fight with the local school and sick townsfolk, critical of lesser conditions and telling teachers how to handle ignorance and neglect. She accuses everyone high or low of being so smug, wrapping a situation that should be handled with forgiveness, food, and rest in a terribly uncomfortable attitude and over the top whining. Bramwell regresses its independent woman with nothing but mistakes, turning her into a bitter biddy who takes over The Thrift again only when it suits her – and when the clinic seemed to do better without her complaining. Eleanor calls her father selfish when he invests in his own practice rather than Thrift Street, and he counters that she needs to consider how other people have dreams and professional ambition beyond her little world. She also says it is for the best when things fall apart for him, which is totally rude, and it is obvious she's jealous of him getting remarried before she is wed. Bramwell becomes even more tone deaf when Eleanor says she's tired of reminding all the bleeding hearts around her of who they are and what they do, but she quickly realizes she is the one backed into a corner and dependent upon the nearest man. She even suggests she and Marsham marry because of how convenient it would be for her – out of her father's house and near East End with her own money – never considering his feelings for her when she steps out with yet another louse instead. Eleanor insists she is calm, able to deal, and not some silly girl, but we have seen every evidence to the contrary, and the character is completely unlikable by the end of the season. 

 

A newfound courting of a wealthy widow, however, has David Calder's Doctor Robert Bramwell recapturing his youthful adventurousness. Naturally, Eleanor's stubbornness and petty disapproval embarrasses him, and he rightfully tells her to catch some manners before giving her her mother's jewelry when she plots her ill-advised engagement. Robert still wants to be there and comfort her, but he's having his own awkwardness in “The Entrenched Rival” thanks to pompous competition and high society formalities when he's visiting his lady's country house. Robert doubts his walks in the moonlight will do, but he realizes it's worth vying for the lady. Ironically, dad does the courting right when his daughter falls for all the wrongs – it's almost as if he should be Bramwell's lead. Robert also does a risky surgery on an infant while Eleanor supports him, and he confesses how he lost his wife during an operation he performed on her. He takes new offices at a well to do address in “The Change of Life” and intends to ask Alice to marry him, but an infatuated young lady patient is making excuses with pains in delicate places. Robert remains professional, focusing on his charming proposal instead of the increasingly delusional hypochondriac. Who knew accusations, fanatical patients, and gunshots were exactly what Bramwell needed? Wedding announcements are in the newspaper by “The Short Chapter,” and Robert's laughing like he's twenty as The Thrift goes all out with a humble little party and sentimental gifts. Dad still worries about Eleanor in East End alone and wants her in the country with them, and Maureen Beattie as widowed brewery heiress Alice Costigan asks Eleanor to be her bridesmaid. She's a strong business woman supporting The Thrift, sticking to the rules without being cruel and helping her injured workers. Alice enjoys Robert's company and invites his simpler tastes into her world despite some haughty medical arguments – she is perhaps set in her ways and chooses the more eminent opinion instead of what's best for the patient. Alice gets knocked down from her social grandstanding, but admits when she is wrong, bringing Eleanor frocks and trying to suggest suitors or more help at the clinic. She's proud of Robert's work and happy to marry him but wishes he'd confide in her without worrying about money, status, or impressing anybody. She prefers mutual trust to doctor confidentiality and offers her finances to save his partnership in a tender, progressive equality again done better than her step-daughter's romances.

Kevin McMonagle's Doctor Joe Marsham remains the voice of reason on Bramwell despite saying he is rarely sober. He never seems to leave the clinic yet talks of taking a promotion with a real salary elsewhere. His wife, unfortunately, becomes ill in “The Diagnosis” and uses a fake name to see Eleanor by appointment. She has had miscarriages and they lost a child, but now there is swelling in her breast and she can't tell her husband. Marsham is angry his wife doesn't confide in him personally or professionally over such a serious illness, and the story balances the husband being unable to handle the severity and the timid woman in pain seen more as a specimen by an elitist specialist. Their choices for healthcare are impeded by his Scottish accent and cheap suit, and the entire Marsham family moves in with the Bramwells during the grim diagnosis for one of the series' finer episodes as the emotional ensemble shines amid grief, time wasted, and loneliness. Andrew Connolly, however, returns as Doctor Finn O'Neill in the Series Three premiere, still wooing Eleanor between lecture stops – dropping by to ruin her rep and she falls for it every time! Though ambitious, he wants assurance of her love before sounding like an abuser with excuses on why it is Eleanor's fault he returns from America with another bride. Everyone sees Finn coming – how can we believe he really loves Eleanor when all he's ever done is wrong her? It's a chore to watch “The Vaccination Experiment” late in the season when these same old moon eyes embarrass the Bramwells amidst would be provocative medical committees debating influenza and vaccinations. Eleanor justifies his work, too – dismissing his wife's ill health, letting the girl faint, and mistreating her out of romantic spite. Finn insists Eleanor knows he wouldn't experiment on people...but that's how they met!

She's terribly embarrassed by suggestive drunken ravings but Ruth Sheen's Nurse Carr sticks up for Eleanor against Finn's crap and isn't afraid to tell off a patient's abusive husband. Although a wonderful dancer tiring out all the men, she can still be found working in The Thrift at three in the morning and comes when the Bramwells call at home. She remains forgiving despite her priggish gruff, but when she tells the doctors she can't be in two places at once, they yell. Everyone's entitled to a bad day except her! Sadly Ethel's mother has begun wandering and stealing in “The Medical Hopeful” and both stubborn ladies refuse help even if Nurse Carr can't take care of her mother alone and won't think of putting her in an asylum. She steals opium from the clinic, spooning it to her mother to keep her calm before escalating to more upsetting elder abuse. The difficulties here are nobody's fault and that's the saddest part, but it's frustrating that the supporting tenderness is torn with severe personal troubles while the titular star has a sappy romance. Ben Brazier as young porter Sidney Bentley is barely there but for a quip or wisdom from the adults. He stands up for Nurse Carr when she teaches him to dance and says he's sorry for the way Finn treats Eleanor and he'd propose if he could. Keeley Gainey's maid Kate is also used for passing along exposition, an absent-minded girl sneaking out for stolen kisses and trying to use a typewriter. Thankfully, she stands up for herself against the jerks and accepts that she has no secretarial skills – humming, reciting poetry, and off to jubilee parties while remaining much needed kindly support.

Bramwell has plenty of turn of the century Victorian bustle with all the balloon sleeves, bonnets, feathers, and frocks needed for proper British formality. Bicycles, carriages, fancy manors, and period clutter set off the candles, crystal, cameos, pearls, and newfangled electric lights while medical gruesome, surgery knives, and blood provide gritty. Our faithful must make their jubilee flags themselves, but they play instruments, sing, and dance to make their own music, too. Be it funeral decorum or church wedding, the Gibson Girl hats and big plumes are ready – leaving the gowns and shining gems reserved for the evening parties amid marble ballrooms, fine china, and English gardens. Rain and blue lighting accent scandalous rendezvous, and overhead shots or point of view editing mirror emergencies with vintage microscopes, period medical equipment, big needles, and huge IV tubes. Bramwell shows the bloody burns and sores upon the breast in bitter contrast to the often quaint atmosphere. However, every time there is a hysterical shock, foul insult, or any kind of upset, ever – someone always inevitably suggests they have a cup of tea! Of course, stateside we would have called Bramwell canceled after Season Three and named the two 100 minute episodes following it television movie specials rather than a Series Four. New credits, military drums, black and white archive footage, absent characters – you would have no idea “The Brave Boys” is supposed to be about a lady doctor if you started here with redcoats and muckrakers shouting in the streets. The always delightful but barely there Jenny Agutter (Logan's Run) is shoehorned in amid busy back and forth editing trying to set the wartime scene, hectic camerawork, and poor outdoor cinematography. It's Eleanor Takes on the Army as sergeants object to her being a recruit doctor. Marsham says he isn't being paid by Her Majesty's Service, so he just lets his future wife do the grab and cough on all these ready and waiting bare butt soldiers instead? There is no sign of romantic affection between the colleagues, and if Robert Bramwell objected to his daughter being called a cunt by patients on Thrift Street, I wonder what he thinks of her military cajoling? Useless scenes and annoying music add to the confusion for anyone unfamiliar with the Boer Wars and Dutch prejudice, leaving characters to take surprisingly racist turns. Nobody's on the same side, and instead of tying up the loose ends from Year Three, this episode throws enemy patients and friendly barracks into the messy mix. Once again, Eleanor drops everything for a Major she doesn't even really like who gets her hot and bothered, because as independent as she claims to be, all the men are still telling her what to do. Apparently there's some kind of marriage and pregnancy scandal in the second feature “The Loose Women,” but I just can't go on anymore.

Bramwell shoots itself in the foot with squandered time on round and round romantic melodrama. Despite stronger stories yet to be told with other characters, plenty of period toils, and more medical possibilities, the series looses its way amid both too many episodes and bizarre format changes. There is still some fine Victorian drama from the tormented ensemble, but unfortunately Bramwell is best left after the Second Season thanks to an increasing unlikability untrue to its original premise.

The Three and Four Musketeers

The Three and Four Musketeers Double the Swashbuckling Charm

by Kristin Battestella

Producers Alexander and Ilya Salkind (Superman) and director Richard Lester (A Hard Day's Night) infamously doubled the adventure with 1973's The Three Musketeers and its 1974 sequel The Four Musketeers. Despite the behind the scenes two for the price of one controversy, both films remain charming with supersized Dumas spirit.

Young d'Artagnan (Michael York) is off to join the King's Musketeers. Unfortunately, he immediately finds himself dueling with not one but three musketeers – the brooding Athos (Oliver Reed), boisterous Porthos (Frank Finlay), and religious but romantic Aramis (Richard Chamberlain). d'Artagnan seizes the chance to assist the musketeers in fighting the villainous Rochefort (Christopher Lee), henchman to the ruthless Cardinal Richelieu (Charlton Heston), who also conspires against the King of France with Milady de Winter (Faye Dunaway) amid stolen diamonds, secret letters, kidnappings, and revenge.

 Opening crescendos, swords slices, and clanging metal set the tone for The Three Musketeers, which is also subtitled as The Queen's Diamonds. Our young hero isn't quite ready for this outfit with training tumbles, bungling in the mud, and swinging and missing his quarry amid rowdy musketeers, snotty enemies, and sassy attitudes. The Three Musketeers is truly cavalier with bawdy drinking, chuckling errors, and winking asides – swords are cut in half, library shelves domino over, scaffolding below makes a lover look more heroic when he jumps out the window, and courtiers try to organize the king's dogs into playing life size chess in the park. The well edited comedic timing isn't slapstick, leaving room for French quips and tag team dead pans. Against odds melees versus the Cardinal's Guards provide a variety of action gags and fighting tricks accented by up close winks, overhead shots, and wide angles. The intense pace is done in camera – The Three Musketeers doesn't have to cut corners with editing or special effects because everyone's kick ass shows. Granted, the musketeers aren't fully developed as characters beyond their lighthearted distinctions and some humorous padding is unnecessary. However, the ensemble is up to any task with the right delivery and period gravitas be it intrigue or wit, providing charming moments that keep this familiar tale fresh without obvious cues. Unlike contemporary romps, The Three Musketeers doesn't need to show excessive raunchy thanks to subtle romantic winks and rowdy laundry house brawls. The coordinated thieving, horseback races, hidden passages, and betrayals culminate at the grandiose ball before The Four Musketeers brings viewers right back where we left off with narrations and credits showing highlights from The Three Musketeers. Now that d'Artagnan is a musketeer, the swashbuckling rescues continue as our eponymous soldiers must thwart the subtitled Milady's Revenge before battlefield canons and firing squad target practice where no one can hit a thing. Although serious talk on coups and religious strife becomes somewhat lost thanks to kidnappings, intercepted messages, primitive submarine inventions, and daring escapes; tender flashbacks deepen character histories. Swords, poisons, and feathers fly as hiding in the water trough ruses and stilts versus attack dogs don't work. In The Four Musketeers, the famous trio has more to do, yet their convenient rescues feel deus ex machina easy amid the disjointed plots – dilemmas are quickly resolved without the wither tos and why fors because the focus here is enjoying the good guys versus the bad guys and their daring fights upon frosty bridges and frozen lakes. The terribly risky but unique action looks like a lot of fun, keeping the swash in swashbuckler alongside deceptions, confrontations, and darker aspects of the novel that many adaptations gloss over in favor of Hollywood trite. A lot's happening with protestant versus catholic, England versus France, Buckingham plots, and front line encampments – the sieges, assassinations, and strangulations at times conflict with the humorous nunnery disasters. Villains montage over Tower of London captures and La Rochelle victories as carriage chases and superb one on one sword fights keep the kicking butt pace before a fiery finale with killers in disguise, executions, revenge, and consequences.

What's not to love about Michael York's (Romeo and Juliet) young, handsome, and sweaty d'Artagnan? The foolish farm boy cum wannabe musketeer is bonked on the head when picking his first fight but has all the roguish charm required – tipping his hat to a lady before promising to kill her other male friend and scaling the vines to her balcony even if he doesn't exactly make it to the window. d'Artagnan is earnest in love and war but is only granted a musketeer consideration because of his renowned father while he proves his worth. He's spirited but has a lot to learn as one woman after another tries to get into bed with him or use him for her own motives. d'Artagnan can't outwit the Cardinal but knows not to accept his duplicitous offer even as he blindly and blissfully does what the Queen tells him to do. The Three Musketeers is largely about him doing most of the bumbling or heroics himself with only peripheral musketeer assistance. By The Four Musketeers, however, d'Artagnan understands where Athos is coming from as the men bond in the tavern over the women they are supposed to love. Oliver Reed's (Paranoiac) Athos is an angry, ornery, sarcastic, and serious but drunken leader reluctant to join d'Artagnan's follies – the dark horse rarely seen in his musketeer frock. There has perhaps never been a more perfect casting, as Reed is definitely believable as a chip on his shoulder drunk wild man with a sword. The Four Musketeers recalls his ruined romance with Milady, and her murderous deception haunting Athos gives Reed some scene chewing when this not one but two movies ploy ironically doesn't provide much meaty drama for the ensemble. Fortunately, Athos becomes like an elder brother to d'Artagnan, threatening to kill anyone who touches a hair on his head – all for one and one for all and all that.

Richard Chamberlain's (The Thorn Birds) Aramis prays during a duel, but it is just another crafty musketeer ruse. In fact, Aramis barely talks in both films, merely standing around a lot and looking pretty when not in the steam bath. He does suggest one plan of action, but of course it goes completely awry with a kick in his groin to boot. Frank Finlay's (Othello) larger than life Porthos also knocks folks on the head with whatever is handy and picks the pocket of a man who's down for the count. Porthos is a gambler making bets on silly games when not eating and drinking in battle. He's sure to make a fighting spectacle in the marketplace so they can steal more wine, and his silly way of fighting – like dropping pots on the bad guys – always helps at the perfect moment. Both Aramis and Porthos are portrayed as a more circus styled duo where one can't seem to do anything without the other. Neither is fully developed and both seem to be there just because they have to be, bemusing as their moments are. Likewise, Raquel Welch (Fantastic Voyage) as dressmaker Constance Bonacieux has being a klutz as her main character development. She's perky, bouncy, and uses a delicate nightie to her advantage when not catching d'Artagnan's eye. Her husband's weakness and the Queen's confidence in her are merely plot devices before she herself is used in a kidnapping scheme in The Four Musketeers that plays for both rousing humor and shocking, well, shocks. 

It's immediately clear to start The Three Musketeers that Charlton Heston's (The Omega Man) Cardinal Richelieu is that selfish kind of Man of God. He has parades to himself and pays the bystanders to be there, stands out in his purple regalia at court, and talks out both sides of his mouth to the King. Richelieu uses the Queen's affairs with Buckingham to pressure the King, gaining information from the top as well as his tormented underlings. He captures people and tortures them only to release them with money so they will become his friend – effortlessly creating a network of spies and manipulation while he remains Teflon and Rochefort does his really dirty work. Richelieu has the most dialogue thanks to his numerous plots yet insists he has no personal enemies – only the enemies of France. Christopher Lee also looks even more nefarious with his eye patch and attitude as Rochefort. He's suave in contesting the Cardinal's plans even if he fears and hates him, and I would have loved to see these two together in more than some blink and you miss it moments in Julius Caesar. Lee has a rough, physical role and must match wits with each musketeer – even if he's always foiled. Likewise charming and deceiving in white or pristine in pearls, Faye Dunaway's (Don Juan DeMarco) Milady de Winter is undressed so all her clandestine weapons can be pulled from inside her frock. The ladies also have some dust ups before the boys come diving in through the window, and Milady has more to do in The Four Musketeers – such as luring d'Artagnan to her chamber for some poisonous daggers about the bed. Down shots over her bosom or close ups upon her lips reflect her temptation, and Milady knows how to use her femininity to serve her fatal nature or make her jailer fall in love with her and kill on command. Again, I'd loved to have seen more of her in league with Rochefort, but Milady remains ruthless right to the end.

Of course, when you end up shooting two movies for the price of one, the colorful production values between those pictures remain seamless with rousing scores invoking the medieval fun amid extensive duels, zany acrobatics, awning leaps, and clothesline spins. Such stunts happen fast and in camera, natural action rather than a superficial, slow motion effect. Horses, country roads, cobblestone squares, and authentic buildings accent the Spanish filming locations as bleak dungeons, barren quarters, and stained green patinas of the poor contrast the marble palaces, grand staircases, and massive chandeliers. Capes and big hats with even bigger plumes set off the regal carriages, red interiors, luxurious bedrooms, and vintage weaponry – daggers nestle inside the corsets even as the cinched bosoms nearly burst from the colorful frocks, fabrics, and sparkling parures. The costumes reflect one's station as the crowded, dirty, plain marketplace bustles against the pompous regalia and music likewise reflects the whimsical of the musketeers or leisurely at court. While some may find the complex fight choreography stagnate thanks to today's flash and dazzle whirlwinds; it's pleasing to completely see the difficult riverside sword action, frigate raids, and night time duels by lantern light. The actors earned their cuts and bruises in these melees with no CGI assistance in the realistic, well filmed battle scenes. Strangely, the DVDs offer options for widescreen or full-frame viewing, and the lack of subtitles can make audiences miss some of the sarcastic asides and quick quips. Thankfully, both videos offer half hour behind the scenes features with some of the late cast recalling the twofer controversies, elaborate fights, and incomparable Oliver Reed.

Despite some ups and downs in adapting the written humor and peril, The Three Musketeers is a straightforward story in full spirit of the novel. The superficial characterizations could have been deeper, but they don't have to be thanks to the roguish charm, courtly adventure, and witty personality continued in The Four Musketeers. Kids can laugh at the swashbuckler visuals while adults can chuckle at the cavalier innuendo. Though intended as one epic film split in two after the fact, The Three Musketeers and The Four Musketeers can be viewed together or separately for a timeless escapade.

Bramwell Seasons 1 and 2

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.