Season 30 - Wives and Daughters (2000-2001)
Wives and Daughters is the most nearly perfect miniseries that exists that I can not watch. Based on Elizabeth Gaskell's unfinished novel of the same name it is a perfect compromise between fans of Austen and the Brontës. Because the world sucks and feels the need to always pit women against each other, for the longest time you had to identify as either an Austen fan or a Brontës fan, you just couldn't be both. Which is bullshit and where Gaskell enters the frame. She's like Austen with politics or the Brontës with more balls. She revels in a happy ending and social satire, much like Austen, but unlike Austen she deals with weightier subjects and, like her friend Charlotte Brontë, is willing to go a bit broody and bleak when the story requires it. In simpler terms, she's totally willing to kill characters that you love and have no regrets about it. Which is why I have such a problem watching this miniseries almost to the point I just can not watch it. Which pains me because I love it so very much. The thing is, I am perfectly comfortable watching Tom Hollander die over and over again. I even once had to watch Tom Hiddleston do the dirty deed. What I can't handle is Michael Gambon's reaction to Tom Hollander's death. Hollander is after all playing Gambon's eldest son. It is, to me, the most accurate portrayal of grief I have ever seen and it just rips open my very soul. Just even thinking about it makes my heart hurt. And this annoys me all the more because I didn't much care for Hollander's character, but he was so beautifully acted and pathetic and poignant. But where there is love, there is pain. And Wives and Daughters is probably the closest Gaskell ever got to writing a straight-up love story. Sure, she does go on about the inter-dynamics of mixing a family, but in the end, it's the love of two characters, Roger and Molly, that makes this perhaps the best miniseries I have ever seen. Even more than Andrew Davies's other beloved adaptation, Pride and Prejudice, this broke and mended my heart a hundred times over and left me nearly satisfied. For some reason Davies decided to focus on the fact that Roger's first love with Molly's stepsister, Cynthia, was more about attraction, whereas the love between Roger and Molly was more a meeting of the minds and companionship and mutual respect. I feel that they are soul mates, and in need of a good snog, thank you very much. True love wins the day, so let the curtain close on a kiss. And right there is why this is only nearly perfect. Because Roger and Molly never kiss. They have their HEA, the times, they are a changing, and yet, there is no true satisfaction. I don't know if this is because Andrew Davies had to create the ending himself. Usually left to his own devices he brings something to a miniseries that otherwise would be lacking, I'm thinking in particular of the songs in Tipping the Velvet, which also starred Keeley Hawes. Here he's so close. The proposal, the rain, the admission of love, and then the lack of a kiss. It just doesn't work. Which is why it's best I don't watch this miniseries. It angers and destroys me in equal measure.
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