Season 16 - Silas Marner (1986-1987)
There are some authors who you just expect bleak and depressing stories from. It doesn't matter if you've read all their work. You might have read one or two of their books and were able to extrapolate the general vibe. George Eliot is just such an author. Not so depressing as Thomas Hardy, but it takes a lot to beat his bleak tales. I honestly had no idea what to expect from Silas Marner: The Weaver of Raveloe, I mean, it would be epic if there was some deep lore about the production wherein Ben Kingsley spent years learning how to properly use a loom and then literally only used it for perhaps five minutes of screen time, but that was just my wishful thinking in the vein of how Daniel Day-Lewis role prepares for a role. But good on Sir Ben for working those pedals like his life depended on it. And shoeless no less! In fact, he's giving us a very nicely turned out leg here. Too bad you were never invited to the dance up at the big house Silas, you might just have won the heart of fair maiden. Instead, this here is a tale of a man who is taken advantage of because he is disabled and only learns to trust again after raising a foundling. And yes, that is a lot to take it. I mean, really, this is a prime example of how evil people can be. Silas is again and again taken advantage of because of his condition. This was written and set in the 1800s so there was no available diagnosis of catalepsy, but it just shows how time and time again anyone viewed as "other" is ostracized. And characters openly plot against Silas because of his condition. His best friend frames him for stealing their congregation's funds and Silas is thrown to the wolves, losing his standing, his fiance, everything. He has a fit on the side of the road and Jim Broadbent of all people is like, he had money on him boys, let's go rob him! Of course someone who needed money more overheard this conversation and robbed him first. To treat a disability as an opening for exploitation is abhorrent. I was literally enraged and then to have his redemption be Patsy Kensit!?! Oh please. Spare me. Literally, spare me anything to do with Patsy Kensit, who is, of course, the legitimate daughter of the heir to the big house. Which means she could have a life of luxury once she discovers her hidden heritage, but instead decides to continue living with Silas and get married. I mean, there's loyalty and then there's stupidity. Couldn't they have worked something out that made everyone happy? Or at least financially viable? The problem is, clocking in at ninety minutes this tale is too short to do justice to what's going on. The heir to the big house is secretly married to an opium addict played by the incomparable Angela Pleasence and I don't think she's actually conscious for a single scene. Why would you hire such a wondrous talent and then not deign to use her? The tale needed to be fleshed out, the rich and the poor balanced. I wanted more and this felt like the CliffsNotes version. Just tacking on a happy ending where it's people and not money that makes life worthwhile doesn't sweep away the bitter taste in my mouth for how Silas was treated. It was only moments before after all. Mere moments.
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