Sarah Hughes
Poisonous legacy of being Churchill’s child
Since the success of Downton Abbey, ITV has been positioning itself as the keeper of the flame of heritage Britain. A new series dramatising the early life of Queen Victoria is due soon and Sunday evening was given over to Charles Sturridge’s handsomely made period drama set during Winston Churchill’s final years as Prime Minister.
Churchill’s secret turned out to be a stroke the 78-year-old PM suffered in 1953. Stewart Harcourt’s script centred on the lengths his aides, family and doctor went to, to keep the news from press and public, ensuring that no general election would be called and that the way was smoothed for Anthony Eden, himself incapacitated following abdominal surgery, to claim the succession.
If that subterfuge sticks in the craw in this modern era (and there was a sense of “for God’s sake don’t let the general public have their say and vote the opposition in” about the whole affair) it’s also worth remembering that war was a still raw memory in the minds of most of those conspiring to keep the secret and that for them Churchill was less a man than a monument. On this slowly crumbling edifice was a whole power structure built – small wonder they were prepared to dissemble, evade and outright lie to protect it.
As Churchill, Michael Gambon bore little resemblance to the former Prime Minister but adeptly caught the mannerisms and voice: by turns autocratic and afraid, he was undeniably the sun round which the lesser planets orbit. A strong supporting cast included Lindsay Duncan as his wife, Clementine, a woman for who the word indomitable could have been invented, Bill Paterson as his avuncular doctor and Romola Garai as a (fictional) Northern nurse who just about managed to make some clunky writing about injustice, miners’ rights and the importance of the newly created NHS slip down.
The drama was at its best, however, when showing the poisonous legacy of being the child of a great man. Matthew Macfadyen was outstanding as the boorish Randolph. The meal between him, his mother and his drunk and depressed sisters as their sick father lay upstairs was a minor masterpiece of suppressed feelings and long-burning resentment. “There’s a price to pay for greatness but the great seldom pay it themselves,” Paterson’s doctor remarked sagely. Watching Churchill’s disillusioned, disunited family those words rang horribly true.
Poshness of an even less palatable kind was on display in the opening episode
Matthew Macfadyen was outstanding as the boorish son, Randolph
of Jim Field Smith’s dark romp, Stag, in which Jim Howick’s mild-mannered geography teacher found himself trapped on the Scottish moors with a bunch of braying bankers. Stag dos with their awkward social pairings, forced fun and high alcohol consumption make the perfect setting for murder and Field Smith went for broke crossing Deliverance with And Then There Were None to put his top-notch cast including Rufus Jones, Borgen’s Pilou Asbaek and JJ Feild through the wringer.
Not everything worked as the tone veered between out-and-out laughs and menacing “who’s out there?” tension but I’ll forgive a lot for the line “he shagged her at Glasto during Mumford and Sons”. As spot-on a dissection of the depths to which our society has sunk as you’re likely to hear.