The Frankenstein Chronicles Season 1

The Frankenstein Chronicles Debut is a Hidden Gem

by Kristin Battestella

The 2015 British series The Frankenstein Chronicles follows Thames Inspector John Marlott (Sean Bean) and his runner Joseph Nightingale (Richie Campbell) as a floater composed of other body parts leads the police to body snatchers, abducted children, street pimps, and even author Mary Shelley (Anna Maxwell Martin). Someone may be copying her novel Frankenstein, and the home secretary wants the case solved before pesky newspaper reporters like Boz (Ryan Sampson) print the sensational tale.

Capsizing dangers, muddy chases, vomiting police, and a stitched together body reassembled from at least seven children set the 1827 London dreary for “A World Without God.” Rumors of grave robbing abound and selling the dead to medical institutions is not a crime – this is a seller's market doing good business despite still superstitious folk fearing science, medicine, and what happens to body after death. Our inspector goes through several protocols and technicalities to research whether this butchery was done by a man of science or some layman out to prevent the new anatomy laws, invoking a mix of morose period noir with British lone detective angst. He's canvasing the dirty streets for a meat market kidnapper while parliament spins grandiose hot air on rights to autopsy versus personal penance. Cholera, prayers, shady men at the docks with carts full of stolen bodies – is someone murdering to procure fresh dead to sell? The hands of the deceased seem to move when touched in “Seeing Things,” and William Blake quotes, death bed whispers, and sing song visions wax on the beast with the face of a man. University hospital demonstrations on bio electricity show how to reanimate the nervous system, however those medical seminars and the subsequent Sunday sermons are not so different from each other. Higher up officials don't want to hear about god fearing motives and scientific suspicion coming together as unauthorized doctors run unapproved clinics with their own ideologies. Investigation leads cut too close to home, and a fireside reading with narrations from the Shelley text invoke a self-awareness meta. An open copy of Frankenstein laying on the desk steers our course as the linear tale expands into a more episodic style with incoming regular cast high and low aiding our inspector or rousing his suspicion. Ghostly winds, flickering candles, and blurry visions create eerie, a supernatural clarity that helps connect clues while books such as An Investigation into the Galvanic Response of Dead Tissue in “All the Lost Children” provide hand written sketches with blood in the margins. Religion versus science abominations, laws of God versus tyranny and oppression, and defiance of deities to defeat death layer dialogue from the author herself along with pregnant teens, abortion debates, and gory late stage patients who may as well be monsters with their deformities. Past baptisms, dead families, and uncanny nightmares escalate the inner turmoil while hymns, market chases, and back alley fights add to the well balanced mystery, life and death themes, precious innocence, and making amends.

Underground tunnels and unscrupulous business transactions in “The Fortunes of War” would have young girls sold at thirty five guineas for 'company,' and the disturbing abuses create frightening silhouettes and threatening villains even as the uncaring uppity argue over chapter and verse regarding bastards and police refuse extra men on a sting gone awry. Screams, gaseous brick houses, and skeletons lead to arrests that unfortunately don't solve the initial case butchery – only will out one small piece of a larger twisted picture. The aristocracy is shocked at the Frankenstein life imitating art scandal as fact and fiction strike the press, politics, police, and the author herself for “The Frankenstein Murders.” Drunken mad science, candlelit pacts, and monstrous machines bring the eponymous inspirations full circle as blackmail and the triumphant anatomy act provide a free supply of corpses for those who will now do whatever they wish. Threats, revelations, and suspicions swept under the rug keep the underbelly dark while disastrous scientific pursuits go awry. Blue currents and electricity experiments try to conquer death as the noose tightens. Red herrings and key pieces of the mystery come together as the audience completes the puzzle along with our constables thanks to erotic clues, nasty denials, ill pleasures, and warped dissections. The detectives must use one crook to catch another with cons, betrayals, and confessions that seemingly resolve the brothel raids, set ups, and scandals. Prophetic calendars, apparent suicides, and emergency parliament sessions make room for plenty of dreadful hyperbole – grotesque body snatchers have used murder to procure and defile corpses and the dubious press thinks it's all thanks to popular fiction! This public medicine reform may banish the body trade, but lingering questions remain in “Lost and Found.” Constables need proof that the deceased aren't staying dead and buried, and someone has known it all along. Conflict among friends and lies will out reveal the hitherto unseen beastly in plain sight as underground discoveries, powder misfires, and final entrapments lead to tearful trials. No one's left to believe the truth thanks to corruption and condemnation blurring the fine line between genius and blasphemy. Last rights go unadministered when one is guilty of much but denies the crime at hand, and The Frankenstein Chronicles escalates to full on horror with frightfully successful dark science abominations.

Producer Sean Bean's former soldier turned inspector John Marlott doesn't like crooked police and his lack of fear is said to aide his quality undercover work. His gruff silhouette contrasts the posh officials, for they dislike his methods, deduction, and research on tides or time of death – questioning where others do not think to look makes him a somewhat progressive investigator even if he doesn't care for books, poetry, or famous names of the day. Marlott has no problem with instructions, but feigns stupidity and says his conscious is his own, playing into people's sympathy or religion as needed despite privately lighting candles to his deceased family and carrying sentimental lockets. The Frankenstein Chronicles is up front on Marlott's past, telling us how his syphilis caused his wife and baby's deaths – he knows what it is to grieve and the prescribed mercury tonics add disturbing visions to his prayers. He's uncomfortable at white glove luncheons as well as church services and cries over his past, perpetually tormented by his late loved ones while this barbaric case puts more burdens on his shoulders. He crosses himself at seeing these ghastly sights, recoiling from the morbid even as his own sores worsen. Marlott's reluctant to use a dead boy's body as bait to catch grave robbers and gets rough in the alley brawls when he must, acting tough on the outside and going off the book with his investigation after he steps on powerful figures who would manipulate him for their own political gain. Despite his own fatal mistakes, Marlott is a moral man in his own way, dejected that making the city safer tomorrow doesn't help the children already dead. Now certainly, I love me some Sharpe, and in the back of my mind I chuckled on how The Frankenstein Chronicles could be what really happened to Sharpe post-retirement. So, when Marlott says he was in the 95^th rifles and fought Bonaparte at Waterloo, wears the same boots, and dons the damn rifle green uniform in a flashback funeral, I squeed! Marlott's not afraid of death and ready to meet his family, not stopping even when the case is officially closed – ultimately breaking out that old Sharpe sword when it really comes to it!

Reprimanded and insulted by superiors, Richie Campbell's (Liar) Joseph Nightingale is assigned to Marlott because they don't really care about him or the investigation. The character is initially just a sounding board, however Marlott confides in him, laying out the procedural methods in lieu of today's police evidence montages. Nightingale does leg work for the proof needed, following a tip and getting roughed up when tailing a body snatcher. He argues with Marlott, too, countering his witness protection strategy before earning Marlott's apology and his blessing to marry. Sadly, both share different angers when plans go wrong and people get hurt. The Frankenstein Chronicles offers a fine ensemble of familiar names and faces also including Anna Maxwell Martin (Bleak House) as Mary Shelley – a sassy, outspoken writer who says outwardly genteel appearances can be deceiving. She tells Marlott her book came from a nightmare, however she knows more than she admits. Shelley is well-informed at a time when women weren't permitted to be as cosmopolitan as their male peers, and great one on one scenes make her an interesting antithesis to Marlott. Ryan Sampson's (Plebs) hyper young Boz is likewise a persistent little reporter who won't give up his own sources but wants the police scoop. He circumvents Marlott, working all the angles and exposing the bodies found. Boz belittles him for not knowing Frankenstein was all the rage but he is on Marlott's side in bringing the truth to light – so long as it's a fantastic story. By contrast, Charlie Creed Miles (Essex Boys) and his mutton chops match the Burke and Hare-esque thuggery. This body snatching businessman keeps track of his livelihood, for it's just honest supply and demand. Pritty's reluctant to snitch, but Marlott's blackmail forces him into helping, becoming a useful, if crooked character. Vanessa Kirby's (The Crown) initially snotty Lady Hervey comes to find Marlott is surprisingly honorable, confiding in him about her family's title but little wealth even as she wonders if he is playing her for a fool. Jemima grows closer to him yet remains committed to a loveless marriage for money if it helps her brother's charity hospital. Unfortunately, Lady Hervey is a woman of god who is sorely mistaken when she puts her trust in all these men of science. Ed Stoppard (Upstairs, Downstairs) as Daniel Hervey speaks out against early medical laws and technicalities with disturbingly contemporary theories when not performing abortions behind his sister's back. Being a starving, homeless prostitute burdened with a child is not life, he reasons, only more suffering. He scoffs at charlatan surgeons and the home secretary's grandstanding but offers Marlott a new medicinal spore for his syphilis instead of the harmful mercury, doing what he can for those less fortunate whether the Anatomy Act would ruin him or not.

Rain, thunder, fog, river boats, marshes, and bogs set the chilly, bleak tone for The Frankenstein Chronicles amid period lantern light, overcoats, and muskets. Eerie artwork and beastly designs in the opening credits parallel the gory sights with separated body parts, arms and legs upon the table, bowls of entrails, and stuck pigs contrasting the organ music, ladies frocks, bonnets, and courtly wigs. It's bowler hats, simple crates, and bare rooms with peeling wall plaster for lower men but parasols, pocket watches, top hats, carriages, luggage, and grand estates for the upper echelon. Stonework and authentic buildings accent the blustery outdoor scenery, cobblestone streets, and humble cemeteries. Sunlight and bright visions are few and far between amid the candlelit patinas and small pocket portraits – the only available likeness of the deceased – however reflections, deformed glances in the mirror, and filming through the window panes accent the man versus monster themes. Wooden coffins, baby sized caskets, plain burial shrouds, simple crosses, body bags, and tanks containing deformed fetuses create more monsters and morose amid sophisticated libraries, early medical gear, handwritten letters, signets, and wax seals. Bones, blood, electricity, ruined abbeys, and hazy, dreamlike overlays combine with late Bach cues for final horrors, but it is bemusing to see the same title page on that open copy of Frankenstein over and over again – as if we could forget our eponymous literary source! Although many scenes happen on the move, enough information is given with time for dialogue in reasonable length conversations, balancing the visual pace and investigation exposition rather than resorting to in your face editing and transitions. All six, forty-eight minute episodes in Series One are directed by Benjamin Ross (Poppy Shakespeare), teaming with writer Barry Langford (Guilty Hearts) for one cohesive tone on this ITV hidden gem now of course branded as a Netflix Original.

While some elements may be obvious, my theory on the new spins in The Frankenstein Chronicles was totally wrong, and I again wish there were more gothic, sophisticated series like this and Penny Dreadful. The Frankenstein Chronicles isn't outright horror – the macabre drama, dreary case, and disturbing mystery are not designed as a scare to frighten even as choice gore keeps the ghastly at hand for this easy to marathon harbinger. Instead the British gravitas meets mad science combines for a Poe-esque caper with literary fantastics peppering the intertwined crimes and Frankenstein what ifs. 

 

A Literary Extravaganza!

It's a Literary Extravaganza!

By Kristin Battestella

Stateside or British, these Victorian, turn of the last century, and post war dramatizations, documentaries, and biographies have heaps of period decorum, famous names, and family friendly bookishness thanks to Agatha, Emily, Louisa, and Sherlock.

Louisa May Alcott: The Woman Behind Little Women – This American Masters ninety minute documentary separates the fact from fiction with first hand accounts, re-enactments, and historical scenery. To the camera recitations add realism while narrations and scholarly interviews create a balanced point/counterpoint detailing Louisa's wild girl childhood and radical upbringing – The Alcotts believed in abolition, women's rights, transcendentalism, and equal education to bloom a child's mind rather than break young spirits. Such religious and racial taboos outcast the family onto tough times and their nineteenth century hippies on a commune Utopian intellectualism leads to starvation, humiliation, small pox, slums, and poverty as the cost of their reform. Louisa wrote of her overworked mother before Concord happiness and hobnobbing with Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Henry David Thoreau – experiences high and low inspiring her determination. Early short stories and attempts at the stage come amid her sister Beth's terrible death, and this depressing time and subsequent gruesome, traumatizing Civil War nursing and suicidal thoughts are reflected in her later fiction. Alcott declined marriage proposals to keep her independence, and therapeutic writings led to literary success in new magazines and paying newspapers looking for her anonymous, fast turn around, serialized thrillers. Louisa herself preferred the vicariously lurid on the page to her mercenary children's literature – women weren't supposed to write that sort of thing and most of this adult material went undiscovered until after her death with evidence of yet more lost works. Trips to Europe and potential flings in Paris become inspirations for some of her famed characters while questions of possible bipolar disorders, manic depression, or undiagnosed lupus linger thanks to her extreme periods of creativity between months of physical inability. The surprise success of Little Women allowed her to enjoy later laurels, but opium, morphine, and other alternative medicinal cures did little to curb the nonetheless prolific Alcott's declining health at thirty-eight. This in depth documentary makes the semi-autobiographical tag of Little Women seem like a small, saccharin sampling, as there is far more to the author indeed.

Mr. Holmes – Ian McKellan's (Lord of the Rings) ninety-three year old detective pursues the case that got away in this 2015 tale opening with superb locomotives, vintage automobiles, quaint cottages, and country mood. The eponymous crusty old passenger is a relic, with bleak music matching the weary toll after a long trip to Japan. There's a hunch to his back, a cane, and a grovel to his voice – feeble friends have gone to live with family but Mr. Holmes is still sharp. He notices a decrease in his bee population and evidence on the stair steps, digging into vintage photographs and cursive notes as he writes down memories he is forgetting and tries to recall one particular client. Holmes is writing the story we see in flashbacks to thirty years prior – but these snippets represent the confused mind, a blurring of fact and fiction as the film also goes back to the recent Japanese quest. Is Holmes forgetting the details or not telling what he knows as he dispels myths about his famous cap and pipe? One must identify the problem and solve it, and if he can't, then is it time to move to a care home? The past shows us a younger, distinguished detective charming his way into a room, smoothing both clients and witnesses and remaining swift even as people doubt the real man because he doesn't match the detective on the page. Despite a terrible accent, housekeeper Laura Linney (The Big C) doesn't want her son too attached to Holmes – an increasingly difficult old man with liver spots once so suave in a top hat but now idle in striped pajamas and clinging to dignity by writing forgotten names on his inner left cuff. The hard facts of a case don't explain a client's behavior or feelings, and upsetting moments help Holmes learn how his acerbic thoroughness isn't always what a person needs. This regret of old and final growth before one's inevitable completion is not an introductory piece. Viewers should be familiar with the character, and the timeline back and forth may be confusing to audiences who can't tell the post war settings apart. The unreliable narrator fictionalizing a past account with other point of views within may also be a frame too many, and some of the storylines are uneven in a busy patchwork of illicit meetings, poisons, false drawer bottoms, and hidden gloves. The art imitating life vice versa works better with Holmes reading Watson's dreadful prose and going to see stereotypical Sherlock Holmes adaptations on the silver screen – putting him face to face with his mortality as he weeps at his inability to recall the truth. Palm readings and the scandalous touching a lady's bare hand are vividly shot as the bittersweet detective looks directly at the screen to say he can't remember it. Such old Father Christmas passing the torch to the New Year babe mature is meant for adult viewers who can understand the frailty, child loss, old habits dying hard, and last piece of unfinished business. Though somewhat flawed in its constructs, the period touches and layered nuance from McKellan keep this little drama charming.

The Mystery of Agatha Christie – Poirot star David Suchet hosts this 2014 documentary hour taking a deeper look at the woman behind the best selling author via lovely on location scenery, tours of the Christie Archive, and sit down interviews with family, historians, and biographers. Private photographs, childhood poems, handwritten notes, and original typed short stories add to the inside nostalgia alongside home movie screenings, memoir readings, and quotes from Christie's writings defining the recluse versus the crime queen. Sit down chats with Suchet and experts waxing on Christie's nightmares and love of swimming are grounded with rare video interviews, audio clips, and drives to the Devon beaches in vintage cars as period newspapers and slides follow the time line from her unusual upbringing at Ashfield and financial difficulties after her father's death to coming out parties, marriage, and wartime nursing in Torquay. Dartmoor inspirations, learning to surf, and the birth of her daughter Rosalind become defining experiences amid the first Poirot publications and future mystery staples such as poison breaking the rules of the detective genre. Christie's global travel is well documented, however the dark emotional crisis stemming from the Nancy Neil affair and the death of her mother remains unexplained in Christie's autobiography, and Suchet and Co. debate her Mary Westmacott novels and the infamous ten day disappearance before Christie's rebirth in Istanbul and subsequent literary heights. The Miss Marple stories and mixing of exotic tales with English comfort helped heal the nation during World War II, followed by renewed paperback masses and more recent manuscript discoveries. One and all describe Christie with warmth, kindness, and gratitude – yet she remains an enigma. The segments here don't go chapter by chapter and book by book, but focus on the insights into the person rather than the literature. Although this may not be anything new for Agatha enthusiasts, this pleasing compliment to the author provides an intimate, personal touch in spite of its shorter, classroom perfect run time. For more fun, also see David Suchet on the Orient Express.

An Unfortunate Skip

A Quiet Passion – Colorful interiors, lovely firelight, charming costumes, and early photography set off Cynthia Nixon (Sex and the City) as Emily Dickinson in this 2016 biopic from writer and director Terence Davies (The Deep Blue Sea). Unfortunately, the trying to be ye olde dialogue is immediately wooden and pretentious. Reading Victorian text isn't the same as speaking it, and every pursed lips conversation is unintentionally humorous with one heavy handed religious browbeating after another dragging the pace. The first twenty minutes of redundant precociousness could have been cut as the so called ungrateful Emily is continually chastised into the adult transition scenes. The unnecessary sassy sounding board BFF says they are trying to be ironic, but the tone is thick with oppression, obnoxious women, and fussiness. The audience feels the bitter we read from Dickinson, however nothing happens to intrigue the viewer – no scandalous publication nor shocking lesbianism. Some pains and health issues are mentioned, but the inconsequential in her own life Emily merely watches time go by amid awkward family marriages or falling flat war drama. Subtly defiant moments are far better, such as Emily asking her father to stay up at night to write in the quiet or smashing his dirty plate because it can't be soiled if it is broken. Voiceover rejections of her too common womanly rhyme lead to feverish writing with one acceptance and an anonymous publication, yet the poetry is apparently not the point of this piece? Should be funny tea with the water only minister's wife and witty arguments about Longfellow or The Brontes are too few and far between, disservicing Nixon by never fully letting the bittersweet come across. Emily's unloved stoicism and ugly feelings because no one wants her poetry anchor the final forty minutes as the eccentricities come to the forefront, and the poetry narrations answer as others question why she thinks her life is so bad, complains about them leaving, doesn't go anywhere, and pushes people away. The dream sequence/veiled masturbation interlude is a bit much, and time transitions leave large life gaps – unless we are to believe that her brother's affair is the most important thing to ever happen to Emily Dickinson. Viewers can't come into this expecting answers, and simply put, reading about Dickinson and her work does far more.

Sharpe's Prey

Sharpe’s Prey Mostly an Entertaining Little Escapade

By Kristin Battestella

Bernard Cornwell filled in another gap of his Sharpe series’ chronology with the 2001 novel Sharpe’s Prey, and this time the titular raised from the ranks Lieutenant find himself on a secret mission in Denmark for more international intrigue between England and France in 1807.

Lieutenant Sharpe is stuck in England unhappy with the army and mourning the loss of his lover in childbirth when General Baird sends him on a mission to Denmark with enough gold to win the Danes’ alliance against France and ensure their impressive fleet remains out of Napoleon’s hands.  Sharpe, however, makes it his personal mission to pursue John Lavisser, a double agent looking to sell England’s spies to France.

First and foremost, we spend a solid amount of Sharpe’s Prey with the man himself. In these newer Sharpe novels, my main complain has consistently been the lack of Sharpe – his point of view journey as a man alone is often found on the short end of the dangerous battle or sociological stick. In Prey, however, there is a pleasant London background to begin the tale. Sharpe is brooding and angry and has returned to his haunts in England, and it’s great to see his reflections on past, present, and future. Later on, we’re treated to some exclusive time with Sharpe as a man alone captured, escaped, and in pursuit in circumstances as tiny as a chimney or as huge as the Battle of Koge.  Unfortunately, the relationship with the widowed Astrid is a bit obvious. Is there a novel where Sharpe doesn’t get the girl? We know it’s going to happen and sometimes the romance feels awkward or forced. We know Sharpe will get over the deceased Grace from the previous year’s Sharpe’s Trafalgar. The longtime reader also knows Sharpe is not going to runoff and play house in Copenhagen and that another chick will be along soon enough for the next novel in the timeline, Cornwell’s first prequel, 1988’s Sharpe’s Rifles.  Thankfully, there isn’t that much of the romance, and Sharpe’s silent mourning of Grace is well done, along with the friendly appearances of Captain Chase and his ship the Pucelle carrying over from Trafalgar. All these military troubles and it’s the thoughts on love lost that almost bring our deadly, often murderous hero to the breaking point. These inner monologues and one-man adventure concepts are Sharpe at its best.

We get a solid Sharpe – that’s who we’re here for, after all – so it almost doesn’t matter that the often absentee villain Lavisser is a limp fish in character and on the page. We don’t even find out his secret aspiration is to be King of Denmark until the final chapters of the book! Beyond clichés, where is his motivation and anger the rest of the time? In some of the recent Sharpe novels when there is both a barely there Sharpe and a cheap villain, it’s been some stinky tough reading. When the books have been both heavy with Sharpe dilemmas and had stunning, reappearing villains like Hakeswill or Major Ducos, however, it’s been some damn dynamite reading. Of course, overlong scenes without Sharpe have been the bane of the newer Sharpe novels.  Once again, we have numerous scenes with English and Danish generals leading abstract battle plans and soldier conversation. Little did he know, he would be disemboweled by the next  bomb – stuff like that. I confess, I tend to skim over these pages; they feel too long, unimportant, and they just don’t seem that interesting.  Does the reader care about the battle any more or less if we know the strategy from either side? Some of the ho hum minions of the villains do not warrant a point of view at all, much less a few pages per chapter of several nobodies. Like the pomp assy Lavisser, it’s no fun reading these jerky folks, and it shows in the writing. At least Lavisser as a diabolical Dane supporting France is plot point.  We need someone for Sharpe to pursue, don’t we?

Although it was a smart move to place the plot and action of Sharpe’s Prey in the new to Sharpe and relatively unexplored Danish angle of the Napoleonic wars, the change of pace might be off pointing to some.  It’s nice to meet Copenhagen, yes, but some longtime readers will find the location switch too much of a change, and it’s tough to do an un-heroic bombardment and be sympathetic on all sides. Not helping that difficult balance, Sharpe’s Prey ends, well, a little bit hokey. After a detailed build up, we’re left with the final few pages quickly wrapping up the Copenhagen destruction with rushed day after montages. Critical plot points hinging on daring orphanage rescues, cliché commanders, and hellish church deaths are almost laughable in a series so often grim and embittered like its eponymous character. This novel is better than some of the newer prequel placements in the series, but not quite on par with the original Sharpe books. Yes, Prey is a prequel after the fact, but Sharpe being without his woman, without his country, and away from his army leads nicely to his finding his place with the rifleman in the forthcoming Sharpe’s Rifles. So long as it sticks with Sharpe’s observations and his on the prowl, Prey remains entertaining reading.  

Where some of the new additions in the series faltered by straying too far from Sharpe, Prey is a good fit into the canon. It can be read out of turn thanks to its Danish set up, or in chronological order as Cornwell brings some of the previous India prequels and naval action back into a new area of Europe. Fans of the film series looking for new adventures can enjoy Sharpe’s Prey, and those who put down the newer, wayward, set elsewhere prequels can return to Sharpe here.

 

More Horror Documentaries and Spooky Shows

Horror Documentaries and Non-Fiction Macabre

By Kristin Battestella

Real world horrors and mayhem are often just as demented and certainly no less interesting than their fictional counterparts, are they not? Here’s a brief guide of ghoulish documentaries, morbid memoirs, and non-fiction frights to spice up your creepy classroom or Fall viewings.  

Anne Rice: Biography – This 2000 television hour focusing on the Interview with a Vampire author is nothing new. Ironically, it is actually dated and somewhat inaccurate thanks to Rice’s more recent life and literary changes and thus this feels somewhat incomplete. A one-minute add-on to encompass the new millennium doesn’t cut it. That aside, it’s still great to see photos from Rice’s early life, hear friends and family recount her childhood and road to publication greatness, and listen to Rice herself talk of religion and the personal tragedies that inspired her writing. In fact, Anne’s familial losses and literary struggles may even be more poignant thanks to the conversations with her late husband, the poet Stan Rice. I’d like to see A&E revisit Rice with an updated two-hour special, but until then, scholarly studies and Rice aficionados can always enjoy this quick profile. 

 

A Cemetery Special – PBS’s 2005 hour-long spotlight doesn’t have enough time to explore this exhaustive subject matter- and it bemusing admits that along with a respectful dedication to those buried in the featured cemeteries. From Pittsburgh to Vermont and Key West to Alaska, lovely footage of graveyards and gardens accents the bent but thought provoking discussion on death, remembrance, art, and the monuments we leave behind. Perhaps lesser-known graveyards are featured, but interesting tales from the Civil War and sleeping place origins are recounted in an almost heartwarming manner. This is the perfect little video for classrooms studying the specific locations and history or macabre scholars researching burial customs. I wish there had been a whole series like this!

Nightmares in Red, White, and Blue: The Evolution of the American Horror Film – In covering a hundred years of scary cinema, this 2009 documentary was bound to miss a few things. However, this hour and half also provides extensive clips from early silent films, Universal monsters, the Roger Corman era, seventies zombies, eighties slashers, and more.  Interviewees like George Romero, John Carpenter, and more experts on the genre examine how the social and political statements onscreen, both overt and veiled, influenced film making and audiences thru the decades. Horror has gone from early B-movie child’s play to red scare allusions and now a blockbuster industry- who knew? Some of the more recent conversation and post 9/11 thoughts are perhaps nothing new or could have been dealt with more deeply, for today’s viewer is familiar with these sociopolitical cinema influences, after all. But seeing the paces of vintage horror film thru the years is a real treat for both new and veteran fans. This one’s a great starter for younger folks just getting into horror films or a good accompaniment to a sociology discussion.

Spine Tingler: The William Castle Story – New horror audiences today may not necessarily recognize the name of the director of such fun fright fests as House on Haunted Hill, but William Castle’s hokey contributions to film tricks and entertainment showmanship are highlighted in this 2007 80-minute documentary. Archive footage of Castle and video of classic stars like Vincent Price, Cary Grant, and Orson Welles accent the lighthearted and insightful commentary from Castle’s daughter Terry, Leonard Maltin, Roger Corman, John Waters, and more genre luminaries.  Are Castle’s low budget films on the fly high art? No. Are they any less unforgettable and entertaining? Nope. Often called a Poor Man’s Hitchcock, horror historians and film students can learn a thing or two about how to make a movie here thanks to Castle’s shtick success- flying skeletons and tingling Percepto theater seats notwithstanding. Although it’s ironic, we look at Castle with such corny delight. However, what are today’s 3D movies, CGI special effects, found footage films, and viral promotions if not gimmicks to sell cinema tickets?

Witches: Biography – A little too much time is spent on recent controversies in this 2008 documentary, and the would be dispelling of negative connotations and misconceptions suffers a touch from the devil worship stereotypes in the presentation. Though care was taken in chronicling the history of witchcraft, from the infamous trials all the way thru to contemporary practices and profiles, the topic is simply too big for just one hour. I’d rather this be at least a 2-hour special or even a three part serial. A&E and History documentaries have solely focused on the Salem Witch Trials previously, and if the networks are pushing all things paranormal, there’s no reason to stifle the content here. The hodgepodge, conflicted vision meanders between past persecutions and today’s practices, but it doesn’t do either justice. Hokey reenactments just don’t seem right juxtaposed with modern coven footage, and this episode seems better piecemeal. If you need Salem studies in the classroom or if you want to see the interviews discussing recent witchcraft for your circle, this is the minimal introduction to a much bigger subject.

 It’s iffy

Bram Stoker: Biography – Indicative of the degrading quality of this A&E series, this 2004 forty five minutes feels too in the vein (no pun intended) of entertainment gossip before historical profile. Precious time is spent on the sensuality of Dracula and the Goth subculture in an attempt to relate Stoker to this highly unfortunate glitter vampire swing.  If you wanted to focus on Dracula and vampires, then make a Biography episode on Dracula or vampires. The first fifteen minutes feels more like “Where’s Bram?”  Rhetorically asking if he would be shocked by vampire clubs or astounded by Halloween costumes do not tell the viewer much about Stoker, nor do poor reenactments and readings with bad Irish accents.  More sensational than informative, this presentation is brimming with unsubstantiated suggestions, much less anything new.  Stoker’s sources for and the sexual discussions of Dracula are indeed intriguing, but making a scandal out of it with homo-eroticism and hatred of women makes for a poor presentation. Did they really need to find something juicy about the man who wrote one of the most widely published books ever? Serious scholars might enjoy a point/counterpoint viewing, but there aren’t many worthwhile literary aspects here. Very disappointing.

Unfortunately, it doesn't look like the Witches or Bram Stoker episodes of Biography are currently available on video, either. Typical!

Sharpe's Rifles (1988)

Sharpe’s Rifles a Nice Introduction Book

By Kristin Battestella

No, no, I haven’t forgotten Sharpe!  Though a lot of busy did take me away from reading Bernard Cornwell’s 1988 prequel Sharpe’s Rifles from time to time, I wanted to write a few literary notes in comparison to the telefilm. Usually, I post my book commentaries with the film they align to, but this one was too long for the comments section! I guess I had more Sharpe thoughts than I thought!

So do please also see our complete analysis on the 1993 television adaptation of Sharpe's Rifles here. 

Cut off from his battalion in the Spanish winter of 1809, raised from the ranks Lieutenant Richard Sharpe must unite a small group of rifleman after the death of his Captain.  He buts heads with the big Irish rifleman Patrick Harper and reluctantly unites with Don Blas Vivar as he and his Spanish volunteers seek to deliver the Banner of St. James to Santiago de Compostela and unite Spain against French Colonel de L’Eclin and Vivar’s brother Count Mouromorto, a French sympathizer. To make things worse, Sharpe must protect The Parkers, stuffy Methodist missionaries, and their lovely niece, Louisa.

Naturally, character additions, changes, and small-scale productions create a few differences from book to film. Besides the insertion of Teresa for the debut Sharpe show, the book Sharpe’s Rifles concludes with a heavy cavalry battle and butchery fest, rather than a smaller cathedral stand.  Rifleman Hagman is somewhat prominent on the page, but remember, the other rifles were television creations.  The Parkers storyline is changed as well, tying into the bank draft plot of the film rather than creating a love interest for Sharpe as Louisa does here.  Though Teresa’s premature introduction creates a few inconsistencies for the subsequent Sharpe’s Eagle episode, her lady is a superior onscreen move. The written Louis is just a little too wishy washy- only there to create an obligatory love interest where none is really needed.  There’s enough going on with Sharpe’s struggle to lead the Rifles along with the back and forth with Vivar.  We don’t need a little girl to occupy space or distract Sharpe, especially since nothing good comes of it anyway.

The written Vivar, however, is given more dimension.  Instead of being a wise almost fatherly support, he’s slightly more harsh and desperate in his rescue of Spain.  Vivar’s kind, even bemusing on occasion and develops a great relationship with Harper, but there’s also a great element of competition with Sharpe. The tug of war over Louisa near the end of Sharpe’s Rifles spells it out, but the devil’s advocate conversations and battle strategy discussions do far more in showing Sharpe’s style and embittered English tone versus Vivar’s intelligence and Spanish pride.  Sharpe’s Rifles does unfortunately suffer from some weak villainy.  Colonel de L’Eclin feels broad like every other insurmountable French officer that we somehow know will get bested by Sharpe, and the visual character design of the Count of Mouromorto is far more creepy than the faux mysterious written version.  Vivar is actually more deadly and action forward than his turncoat brother.  

Sharpe and Harper are great as always, but again I feel there wasn’t enough of them. The quiet character scenes are far more interesting than the historical battle details, even though those are sweet too.  Sharpe’s Rifles does fall prey to the big omnipresent battle for the finale.  Sometimes it is almost as if Sharpe is only a supporting player, a host and the battle is the focus of the tale.  Shouldn’t it be the other way around?  The French tricks and twists for the Santiago de Compostela siege are also totally obvious, and after an entire novel of building character, intelligence, and character intelligence, everyone is made to look kind of stupid. The reader is repeatedly told the right versus left and inside versus outside clues that we don’t need at the expense of the players.  The conclusion feels really rushed- three pages to wrap up three hundred page’s worth of story with Captain Hogan being introduced on the last page!- and sometimes, I get kind of tired of Sharpe for the big battle endings.  Yeah, there is a battle, Sharpe gets the bad guy, and he marches on.  They kind of all feel the same now.  But of course, when you like Sharpe and Harper you want to see them kick ass and bag the bad guys.

Sharpe’s Rifles was an elusive book for me to find a few years ago, and the edition I finally got is a red TV tie -in reissue with Sean Bean on the cover, hehe! Though slightly uneven among players and battles, and again a step down from the original core of Sharpe books, Sharpe’s Rifles is the perfect example of a true prequel.  How did our Sharpe and Harper meet? Overall, that question is answered, and for those looking to jump into the written Sharpe, Rifles is a good spot to dive in. 

Sharpe's Trafalgar

Sharpe’s Trafalgar a Seafaring Breath of Fresh Air

By Kristin Battestella

After reading Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe India Trilogy, I was keen to move on to the next chronological tale, 2000’s Sharpe’s Trafalgar.  As a Hornblower enthusiast, I wanted to see how landlubber Sharpe would take on this famous high seas adventure.  There are a few hiccups, yes, but otherwise Trafalgar does its duty to the reader wonderfully.

It’s 1805 and Ensign Richard Sharpe is finally leaving India on his return voyage to England.  His passage begins on the Calliope under Captain Peculiar Cromwell, but the unfriendly Captain and the snotty Lord William Hale make the trip unbearable for Sharpe.  Thankfully, Sharpe’s quickly smitten by Lord William’s cold, seemingly sickly and distant wife Lady Grace.  When the French warship Revenant captures Calliope, all hope of Romance and England is almost lost.  Fortunately, Captain Chase and his Pucelle reclaim the Calliope, and the Pucelle’s vengeful pursuit of the Revenant opens new adventures for Sharpe.  He learns what its like to be a ship bound marine, flirts dangerously in romance with Lady Grace, and ends up fighting in a little battle off Cape Trafalgar. 

Recently, I don’t have as much time to read straight through a book as I’d like.  However, my father was in the hospital when I first started Trafalgar, and my days having to be still and quiet in his room allowed me plenty of time with Sharpe.  I tore through most of the novel- as opposed to some of the weaker  recent books like Sharpe’s Fury where I found myself skipping around looking for the good parts.  Thanks to the storyline and my bound reading situation, Trafalgar reminded me very much of one of my favorite and most read books, Lieutenant Hornblower. I remembered the first time I read Lieutenant Hornblower- stuck in detention at school, trying desperately not to fall asleep as I read Hornblower’s wild Caribbean adventure under a mad and crazy Captain Sawyer and his subsequent ill adjustment to land life playing whist. (I could talk for hours about Lieutenant Hornblower, so I’ll just stop there!  I actually have a cat named Mr. Bush, that’s all I’m saying.) 

The different ship experiences in Trafalgar-both positive and negative for Sharpe- capture the creepy, tedium, monotony, and cramped living of seafaring life whilst also highlighting the high seas mystique, homebound excitement, and adventure of the unknown.  We are learning so much about Richard by seeing him as the proverbial army fish living the navy lifestyle.  For the first time since beginning my readings with Sharpe’s Gold, I feel like we’ve been personally with Sharpe, knowing his yearning, plans, and desires.  Even in the India trilogy where he was alone without Harper and the rest of his rifleman pals, we still had too many viewpoints and villains to really get to know the budding Sharpie.  Here in Trafalgar, however, we spend most of the novel with nothing to do but follow Sharpe.  I felt his impatient tedium and angry vengeance right there in that hospital room.  I was there pursuing the Revenant with Sharpe and learning the ropes of the Pucelle.  This is what a book is supposed to do, and it’s downright refreshing!

Lady Grace is also a cool dame-chronologically the first real relationship we’ve seen for Richard.  There have been other sexcapades and relations based on the situations of the time in India, but this feels like a real romance for Sharpe at last.  First, he is obsessed with the aristocratic lady on board, and his cabin fever-like risks make for great reading. It’s not a lovely dovey romance here- the delicate stance the couple treads is mixed with the usual heavy we expect from Sharpe. When he gets his girl, we then see the confident, intelligent Grace emerge through Sharpe.  Grace and the relationship are well developed-even if it’s a foolhardy affair.  She’s witty and charming compared to her limp fish husband Lord William, but we can’t deny the hot scandal putting the entire Pucelle at risk.  I dare say Sharpe is even a little unlikeable when it comes to protecting his adulterous actions.  He’s a throttling, vengeful force that should be feared-and it’s strange to see that his battlefield fury can also be used socially, even lustfully if he feels so passionately.

Of course, now that we’re at sea, we have the usual cast of characters onboard ship- swarthy sailors, corrupt politicians, scary surgeons, and vile Frenchmen. It’s not always easy to tell where everyone’s allegiances lie- and this makes Sharpe’s lengthy journey perilous and entertaining. Captain Chase is a wonderfully good hearted man who takes a liking to Sharpe, but Captain Peculiar Cromwell is just that, a little too peculiar to be an honest man.  Brawny gunner Cloutier is a little stereotypical, but also well written as the seemingly low but loyal and heroic brute with exceptional and deadly skill.   The dedication Sharpe takes in him is almost as confounding to Cloutier as Chase’s attention to the supposedly low Sharpe.  On a ship, it seems action oriented talent like Sharpe’s is rewarded amid the ship’s hierarchy- rather than shunned or snubbed by the army officers who resent his rise from the ranks.

Naturally, there wouldn’t be a point in calling a book Trafalgar if you weren’t going to have Admiral Nelson make an appearance.  It’s a neat portrayal.  The reverence Nelson had from his peers is instantly made known-along with his more scandalous behaviors-but his small stature, gentile and warm-hearted style touch Sharpe.  It’s not treated as obligatory or hokey when the famous ‘England confides that every man will do his duty’ signal comes to the fictional Pucelle.  Again, it’s all very Hornblower-esque, somber and written in multiple layers.  Instead of spelling everything out for his reader like Cornwell sometimes does with his research and information, the scenes with Nelson are quiet, reflective, and tightly written.  Space for the reader to reflect and emote is allowed amid the unspoken lines.  Not only is the setting akin to the Hornblower series, but some of Cornwell’s finer writing here is almost as good as C.S. Forester’s work.

Unfortunately, yet again the ending of Sharpe’s Trafalgar doesn’t live up to the lovely adventure of the rest of the novel.  We spend the first eleven chapters almost exclusively in Sharpe’s point of view-only to have the last chapter of battle action break down into nameless French viewpoints, stern to starboard action, and intrigue in the Pucelle’s lady hole.  I like the seafaring battle action-perhaps even more so than the Napoleonic proper retellings- but it’s just a little too broad and impersonal after all that intimate Richard time. Sharpe, the Pucelle, and Revenant weren’t even at the Battle of Trafalgar after all; yet like so many other big battle sequences in recent Sharpe books, I had to ask myself again, ‘Where’s Sharpe?’  How can we spend an entire naval voyage from India to Trafalgar in his point of view only to have him disappear for extended chunks of the main battle? We know how Captain Chase feels, what the nameless wounded French guy bleeding out on the deck is thinking, we see what ships on the other side of the battle theater are doing-but we don’t always know where Sharpe is in the action.  For all the historical research, we’re dealing with fictional men on fiction ships- stick to them! Trafalgar wraps up much too quickly-with the simplicity of tossing the loose plot strings overboard, literally.  Naturally, a few things should be left for the follow up Sharpe’s Prey, but the whole point of this homeward bound journey was to go home, wasn’t it? If the point was the deviation for Trafalgar, the battle should have happened a lot sooner than the last two chapters. 

Despite the unraveled ending, Trafalgar is one of the more tightly written books in the series, and one of the finest since the original canon books.  I imagine those who prefer the Peninsular Sharpe action might not like the naval lessons here, but fans of the initial Sharpe books should definitely try this similar but different taste of naval action.  Readers of Hornblower or Patrick O’Brien will absolutely delight.  In some ways, I can image an entire series with Sharpe as an army man stranded on a frigate always facing adventure.  I suppose that may show my true leanings towards Our Man Horatio, but this is the first time we’ve really seen Sharpe alone and out of his element- just like Hornblower always thought himself to be.  Oh how I’d love to see a crossover movie between these series! Though I don’t have the next chronological book Sharpe’s Prey, I’m eager to continue reading on with Sharpe’s Rifles.  Despite being in the middle of the chronology, uninitiated viewers can meet Sharpe in this relatively stand-alone sea epic as well.  Return to Sharpe and relive Trafalgar as your final beach read this summer.

Sharpe's Fortress

Sharpe’s Fortress Imperfect, but A Fine Exit from India

By Kristin Battestella

Once again, I’ve stopped and started on another Sharpe novel from Bernard Cornwell.  Sometimes I frustrate myself if I realize I’ve been reading the same book for over a month when I used to read a book a week.  Is that a statement on the busy lifestyle and replacement of reading as priority in today’s society or the sign of a less than stellar written yarn?  Nevertheless, here I am still reading about young Dickie Sharpe in Sharpe’s Fortress. 

Colonel William Dodd and his Cobras unit have taken refuge in the far-flung and nearly impenetrable fortress of Gawilghur escaping the battle of Aragaum. Angry and displaced Ensign Richard Sharpe, however, has revenge on his mind.  Raised from the ranks for saving Sir Arthur Wellesley’s life, Sharpe doesn’t fit in with his new regiment and has plans to kill the renegade Dodd.  Unfortunately, vile Sergeant Obadiah Hakeswill and his ruthless Captain Morris also have it in for Sharpe. 

Although 1999’s Sharpe’s Fortress is a satisfying conclusion to Bernard Cornwell’s prequel trilogy, this third India novel suffers from the same troubles as its predecessors Sharpe’s Tiger and Sharpe’s Triumph.  (Why do I feel like I’ve said that before?) The head hopping, weak villainous viewpoints, and absentee battle narration again dominate Fortress.  Personal strides that we make with Wellesley and Sharpe take a backseat to omnipresent explanations about Gawilghur.   I must say it’s also odd that after two titles that begin with a T (and the next book chronologically in the series begins with a T, too) Fortress seems a little on the outs with its odd F.  I don’t really know what else it could have been called, but psychologically again this gives me the feeling that these books might have been better served with a good edit as two books instead of three. 

Yes, the character of William Dodd by nature doesn’t have a lot of character; he’s a louse hoping to rule India via the blood of others. Unfortunately, his thinly veiled villainy and unlike-ability doesn’t help me care about Dodd’ point of view.  This isn’t called Dodd’s Fortress, yet it feels like we’ve spent a long half of the book with him.  We’ve spent most of the trilogy with Dodd’s overreaching presence, and then he exits in less than a page.  Huh?  Not only does Fortress have to conclude itself, but also there has to be some restitution for the trilogy.  Sharpe’s initial reason for pursing Dodd-the massacre at Chasalgaon- is never even mentioned.  Ironically, with all this head-hopping going on, we actually don’t get any thoughts on Dodd’s departure from Dodd.  A splendid conclusion could have forgiven the limpness of the character, but alas, this weak villain is put out to pasture too weakly.

We know and love to hate Obadiah Hakeswill as a far better lecherous and realistic villain, but his treatment is also uneven.  Absent for gaps of pages at a time, we simply don’t spend enough time with the murderous sergeant to care on his plot.  Even when he attacks Sharpe, robs him, sets him up, and leaves him for dead-it’s forgotten until the final pages of Fortress.  After almost three books with a relatively minor role, the big conclusion is supposed to be with him? Similar but different to Dodd, Hakeswill’s fate is also a little too iffy.  We know he survives the deadly snake pit Fortress leaves him in- but a deadly snake pit seems pretty conclusive on, you know, the deadly part. If you didn’t already know Hakewsill’s claims of cheating death or his wicked deeds in 1984’s Sharpe’s Enemy, you’d think his implied survival here too far towards deus ex machina.

Yes, yes, I complain.  Why bother to read the series if the action is ill-paced among lesser and lesser villains? Because I like Richard Sharpe, that’s why, and he’s great here as always.  It’s delightful to see Sharpie as an ensign, since the television series skips this rank for the most part- and understandably so.  It’s an odd rank, isn’t it? Sharpe is an officer in between- no longer in the ranks, but not really any officer of note-much less a respectable gentlemen officer befitting the young and wealthy position of an ensign.  He’s little more than a baggage man and flag boy despite his age and fighting skill.  It’s wonderful to see Sharpe get what he thought he wanted- and then find out how the grass isn’t greener.  There’s anger, conflict, man versus man when he doesn’t fit in, and man versus himself when Sharpe debates what he wants from the army and in life.  This is how you build character, people! 

It’s also lovely to see how Sharpe got his distinctive facial scar.  The allusions of transferring to the new Rifles green jacket division are also a fine touch.  I hope there’s more to this for the follow up Sharpe’s Trafalgar.  These hints at the earlier books and the Sharpe that is to come satisfy the end of Fortress, but I wish we didn’t have to wait literally to the last page for the resolution.  Gawilghar is claimed; Sharpe beats the bads, and walks into the sunlight literally with the back cover to spare.  Charges that might be brought against him for striking a superior officer, the telescope that Wellesley will give him, friends’ burials that Sharpe wishes to uphold-all these distinctive touches are left out.  It makes an uneven read for Sharpe’s Fortress, with an overlong opening, a villainous middle, and a rushed battle ending.  Just because the action is resolved, doesn’t mean the characters are.  In a well-planned trilogy, there should be room enough for both.

Although some of the newer Sharpe novels are better than others are, this India Trilogy as a whole is a fine nod as to how Sharpe became Sharpe.  Readers and super fans of the Napoleonic fiction might be reluctant to continue here, but lovers of old time India tales can enjoy Sharpe’s Fortress.  These three books have their ups and downs yes, but loyal readers can find what they are looking for in this prequel trio.  New fans can indeed begin their chronological Sharpe adventures here.