Dr Lucy’s tsar wars would be a hit — if she was in fancy dress

What an opportunity! War and Peace, the Beeb’s drama spectacular, is a feast of arcane history and splendid costumes — so this show ought to be just the chance for Dr Lucy Worsley to plunge into her dressing-up box as she explores Russia’s past.

the blonde-bobbed historian usually can’t resist a bustle or a ballgown. In the past year or so, we’ve seen her strapped into suits of armour, sparkling in sequins, laced into regal corsets and plumed like a cavalier. her speciality is royal palaces, but she’s happy talking about everything from music hall to murders, as long as she’s in period attire.

Empire Of The Tsars (BBC4) traces the history of Russia’s ruling family, the Romanovs, from the teenage tsar Michael in the 17th century to nicholas II, slaughtered with his wife and children by the Bolsheviks in the Russian Revolution 300 years later.

It should have given Dr Lucy scope for endless magnificent costume changes. But something disconcerting happened: instead of enjoying herself like a six-year-old let loose with a trunkload of silks and feather boas, she was being terribly grown-up.

For most of this documentary, the first of three and largely focused on the reign of Peter the Great, she wore sensible modern dress. almost everything was bright scarlet, perhaps because many of her monologues were filmed outside the Kremlin in Moscow’s Red Square. She even had a red umbrella, with a transparent window in the shape of pursed lips.

But it’s difficult to concentrate on what Dr Lucy is saying when she’s not in full historical fig. I kept wondering when she was going to don Cossack boots or napoleonic uniform.

things looked more hopeful when she tried a snort of tsar Peter’s favourite tipple, brandy spiced with peppers. It made her eyes water, but it didn’t loosen her inhibitions.

Finally, she visited the celebrated Mosfilm Studios, said to be the oldest movie headquarters not only in Russia but in the whole of Europe. Mosfilm’s costume warehouse is legendary. Surely here she would get into character.

But when a presenter emerged from behind the dressing-room curtain, in a fur-trimmed coat, leather boots and straggly beard, it was not our heroine but her Russian translator, Misha.

While Misha struggled into a succession of costumes, Dr Lucy discussed Peter the Great’s reforms — watched, for some reason, by a portrait photo of Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka.

Before she left, she did try on a couple of outfits, just for a few moments: an orange Russian-style dress with crown and muslin veil, and a bodice and Regency gown. But her heart didn’t seem to be in it, and within half a minute she was back in present-day clothes. how boring.

It’s easy to chuckle at this exuberant, child-like presenter when she gets over-excited with the fancy dress, but in the end that’s why her shows are generally such fun: they make us smile.

Empire Of the tsars was far too staid and featured numerous contributions from wafflebox specialists who said ‘err’ and ‘hmm’ a lot. that isn’t what we want from Dr Lucy. this could have thrown fascinating light on War and Peace, but instead it was more like a dull DVD extra.

Former sheet-metal worker Graham, whose wife Janet runs a bridal shop in Surrey, might have enjoyed a tour of the Mosfilm costume factory. Mary Portas visited their business, in Secret Shopper (C4), and found it stocked with hideous gowns bought as a job lot in Las Vegas. the only people, Mary gasped, who would ever wear tat like that were transvestites.

this, it turned out, was a supremely tactless remark: longhaired Graham was a dedicated tranny, who had even married Janet in drag — bride and groom both wore white.

Mary looked mortified and from then on she wasn’t really sure what to do. Janet was a skilled seamstress but she lacked charm with the clientele: when one woman got tearful, Janet called her ‘mental’.

Mary’s solution was to send the couple on a training course — as waiters, aboard the Orient Express. at this point, the show parted all contact with reality. Sometimes, real life is too deliriously strange for television to cope with it.