A review of North and South – 1975

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I recently re-watched an old favourite of mine, North and South, starring Richard Armitage and Daniela Denby-Ashe.  This BBC period drama was not widely publicised when it first aired in 2004, as it was not believed that it would be very popular.  Since then, it has appeared on most recommended lists for period dramas and has become a firm favourite – a must-see for every self-respecting fan of romantic historical fiction.

But more about that later.  What I wanted to write about today is to do with a shock discovery I made when, eager not to let the magic of that final ‘train station kiss’ scene fade, I began searching the internet to see what others made of this drama.  And then I saw it – a bit of trivia on the IMDB website: Tim Pigott Smith (who plays Mr. Hale) also plays Frederick Hale in the 1975 version.  Version of what?  I asked myself.  Surely not a version of North and South.  Surely I would know about this.  I searched a little more and there it was: a BBC 1975 mini-series of Elizabeth Gaskell’s romantic and gritty novel.  It exists, and not only that, but in my opinion, it’s pretty good.

I pride myself on my knowledge of 1970s costume drama; it’s something of which I’m very fond.  I don’t know quite what it is – perhaps the nostalgic memories of watching The Onedin Line at my grandma’s house when I was little, or perhaps it’s the safety of them – you know there’ll be no in-your-face nudity or graphic violence.  So, I suppose I was already disposed to like this drama, were it not for the fact that, as I already mentioned, the 2004 version is a favourite.  How could it be improved upon?

Well, in many ways, this new discovery of mine was more faithful to the novel, or what I can remember of it, particularly with regards to the characters of Nicholas and Bessy Higgins.  This Bessy is much more your typical tragic Victorian sub-character, designed to pull at the heart strings of well-to-do Victorians, who might be inspired to consider and sympathise with the plight of the working classes more.

 

The storyline generally follows that of the novel, although it does miss out the rather important plot point in which Frederick pushes Leonards, who later dies, and Margaret has to deny that she was present.  I read North and South several years ago, so I cannot remember exactly how it all plays out, but it seems to me that this is a pretty important and catalytic detail to have missed out.  In the 2004 version at least, this is when Margaret has to ask herself the question: Why would Mr. Thornton go along with my story when he knows that I am lying about being at the station?  It’s perhaps when she realises that there really is something deep and unconditional about the love he has declared for her.

This version finds other ways to reveal Thorton’s love for Margaret which are more upfront and, I felt, sweet.  Patrick Stewart’s Mr. Thornton is similar to the one in the novel.  It could come as a shock to fans who have not read it that Elizabeth Gaskell’s Mr. Thornton is generally friendly and cheerful and wears his heart on his sleeve.  It’s a much more ordinary man who first meets with Margaret Hale in this version; not as he beats one of his workers up for smoking in the factory, but as a matter of courtesy when he decides it would be kind to pay a house visit to the new tenants.  It’s important to state here that I love a dark and brooding hero, but something about Stewart’s performance is very endearing in this adaptation, so that, even without the heart wrenching ‘Look back at me’ scene of 2004, I was still longing for Margaret to put the man out of his misery and reciprocate his love.

Towards the end of this version, Margaret’s regret over her rejection of Mr. Thornton and her realisation that she does love him after all, is referenced more often and more obviously.  I liked Rosalind Shanks’ Margaret Hale, even though she seems to smile once or twice in the first scene and then never again.  She plays her much more as a product of her times; a heroine that really would have appealed to a Victorian readership, and one can see why Stewart’s rather less sophisticated Mr. Thornton might be awe-struck by the appearance of this refined and beautiful lady from the south.

Image from IMDB

 

To conclude then, I honestly can’t say which version I prefer, as I feel that both have something different to offer.  In the 1975 version, I felt I got much more of a sense of Margaret Hale’s back story and Thornton’s humanity.  Maybe I just need things spelled out a little more, but I’d never made the connection between his sudden concern for Boucher’s children after Higgins asks him for work, and his own experience of losing a parent to suicide.  This, and many other points make the 1975 version one that I feel I learnt more from, and I really did like the portrayal of the main characters.  But that train scene between Armitage and Denby-Ashe…It’s got to be a draw.

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Three Sisters, Three Queens by Philippa Gregory

 

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This novel tells the seldom-told story of the sisterly relationship between the sisters of Henry VIII: Margaret Tudor, Mary Tudor, and his wife, Katherine of Aragon.

The fate of Katherine of Aragon is well-known to anyone with an interest in Tudor history, and Philippa Gregory presents it to us faithfully.  Having been widowed by her young husband, Prince Arthur, Katherine remains in England, believing that it is God’s will that she should one day marry Arthur’s brother, Henry, and become the queen of England.  This, of course, is what comes about and the marriage is widely celebrated in the hope that it will produce the heirs needed to ensure the continuation of the relatively new Tudor dynasty.  However, through the letters that she sends to her sister-in-law, Margaret, we learn that such hopes are dashed and no matter how well one knows the story of Katherine’s inability to have a healthy son, Gregory still manages to build a sense of suspense and hope each time her character announces that she is pregnant.  We get glimpses of a different side of Katherine’s personality, far removed from the saintly and long-suffering persona one immediately thinks of.  This comes about through her relationship with Margaret.

Contrary to what the title of the book might suggest, Margaret is undoubtably the main character in this novel and it is through her perception of events; her jealousy, pride, empathy, fear and joy that we are informed of the actions of her royal sisters.  We first meet her as a teenager, eagerly awaiting her marriage to the King of Scotland, when she will at last be revered as a queen and have a say over how she lives her life.  Gregory embellishes her character with a strong sense of self importance which is at first a little hard to like, but as the narrative continues, it becomes easier to accept Margaret as a product of the court in which she was brought up.  Through her three marriages, we learn much about a woman who lived a life just as thrilling, and danger-filled as that of some of her better-known royal predecessors.

There is a strong feminist feel to this book, and it compliments the character of Margaret Tudor well – a woman who did what she could to survive in a world in which she was largely at the mercy of men.  In the words of the third sister, Mary, a popular message, reminiscent of these times of gender pay gap exposure and #MeToo, is voiced: ‘We spent our time admiring and envying each other and we should have been guiding and protecting each other…What is the point of being sisters if we do not guard each other?’

Of all of the novels I have read by Philippa Gregory, this one has felt the most factual and, in some ways, the most current.  Where there was not sweeping romance in the 1500s, Gregory has not created it for the sake of a more passionate story, and where facts could not be verified at the time, Gregory has not taken that liberty.  What she has done is given us a possible explanation of why the facts that history has recorded may have come about – and that is due to the emotions and strategies of real, thinking women.