Season 8 - The Mayor of Casterbridge (1978-1979)
My parents like to cite Doctor Zhivago as their beginning. But personally I think that a compelling case could be made for their mutual love of Thomas Hardy. Before they even met my Dad ranked Jude the Obscure as one of his favorite books of all time and my mom named her cat Eustacia after Eustacia Vye from The Return of the Native. Of course it turned out Eustacia was a boy but Stacey lived a long long life unlike most characters in Thomas Hardy's books. Because my parents held Thomas Hardy in such high esteem he therefore became an author I was reluctant to read. Mainly because if I didn't like him I could possibly be disowned. Or at least I thought so at the time. But my love of James Purefoy made me willing to finally give Thomas Hardy a chance. In other words, I was really excited for the 2003 adaptation of The Mayor of Casterbridge that was made for A and E. And I didn't even make it through the first episode. I honestly don't know how far I made it but it was just depressing and muddy and it was at the height of my hatred of Ciarán Hinds so I washed my hands of it. Which means I wasn't over the moon about watching the 1978 adaptation but I do love Alan Bates so I was willing to give it a try. The problem is that no matter who stars in this tale it's a story of a miserable and horrible man, Michael Henchard. He sells his wife while drunk and blames the drink. Of course it's not the drink that's to blame, it's something rotten and twisted within him. Because if he had been a little nicer, a little more generous, you know what? Everyone could have had a happy ending. Instead there's lots of misery and death and self-flagellation. I mean, seriously, this is a lot to handle. Watching someone in a downward spiral with no way to stop it is not something that is relaxing. This isn't a show to be watched passively. You're an active viewer. You're viscerally involved in watching this man's downfall and just hoping that his death comes soon enough that some happiness can be grasped by the survivors. But at least with Alan Bates driving this crazy train there is acting on such a level that, well, I'm sorry, Ciarán Hinds, you could just never reach it. The simplest expression, the way Alan Bates's face can morph from awe and love to sheer blinding terror and rage in just an instant made the fall of Michael Henchard riveting but not restful television. The fact that the supporting cast includes Anna Massey, Jack Lowden's doppelganger, and the face melting Nazis from Raiders of the Lost Ark, was just an added bonus. Or another drink at the pub put on someone else's tab? Because Michael Henchard is not a man the better for drink. In fact most of Thomas Hardy is just desperation verging on folk horror. Which, it's a vibe I can get behind. And a vibe this adaptation leaned into. Just look to the scarecrow and how the townsfolk scared Lucetta to an early grave. Seriously, if Carl Davis had made the score a little scarier this might have been horror. But isn't the fall of a man horrible enough as it is? Again, I'd say it depends on the man and Michael Henchard got what he deserved.
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