If you were choosing a Dickens novel to adapt for the screen, you’d need a really good reason to opt again for Great Expectations. David Lean’s 1946 film, with its spectacular cinematography, is already exquisite, and in 2011, Gillian Anderson turned in a mesmerising Miss Havisham. Steven Knight’s justification for his new BBC adaptation falls far short of both. Rather than find a fresh way to articulate what is vital in Dickens’s bildungsroman, Knight has taken the bare outline of the novel to tell a different story about the corruption of youthful ambition in an imperial London.
Certainly, there are imperial subtexts to Great Expectations. An English man writing in the middle third of the 19th century, obviously Dickens carried a set of attitudes towards the Empire and its relationship to the Condition of England. As his satire of Scrooge’s obsession with decreasing the “surplus population” by letting people die showed in A Christmas Carol, Dickens hated Malthusianism. But his alternative to addressing the consequences of population growth during industrialisation was imperial emigration.
The actual expression of Dickens’s own worldview clearly does not though interest Knight. In his telling, Pip equates becoming a successful gentleman with getting rich in the colonies, while Dickens packed off characters to the colonies who could not succeed materially or morally in England. They either went voluntarily, like Micawber in David Copperfield, or as prisoners, like Magwitch in Great Expectations and the sadistic Wackford Squeers in Nicholas Nickleby. In Great Expectations, Pip’s friend Herbert moves to Cairo to practise merchant shipping because he gets nowhere in business in London, and an indebted Pip joins him when he realises even a life in Kent is no longer possible for him. Indeed, Dickens sent five of his seven sons, whom he deemed likely failures, to imperial life: one to the East India Company, one to the Bengal Mounted Police, two to Australia, and another to the Navy. (Walter Dickens died aged 22 trying to get back home from India and is buried in Calcutta.) Only Dickens’s eldest son, Charles junior, and the one successful son, Henry, were allowed to stay in England.
Great Expectations is also concerned with ignorance about the source of inherited wealth. Magwitch’s return to England, after he made a fortune farming in the penal colony of Australia, is a brutal revelation for Pip, whose whole view of his London life rests on him mistaking the surface of things for reality. As Pip assumes wealth breeds wealth, Magwitch’s lower-class toils initially incite “abhorrence”. His first instinct is to hide the truth and exile Magwitch, so that he can resume his gentlemanly ways. But Pip has to learn to see Magwitch as a flesh and blood human being to whom he owes gratitude. For Dickens, the Magwitch story has a symbolic purpose: the return of unbearable knowledge about the price another has paid abroad. While he does not make clear that farming in Australia means farming appropriated land, the point is there to be made.
By contrast, Knight’s telling traduces the literal Magwitch-Pip story and robs it of its human and thematic heart. Knight’s miss on the Pip-Magwitch relationship is part of his whole approach to Pip. Dickens’s novels are populated by memorable, strange characters and Pip is one of them. Pip’s entire consciousness arises from a moment on a “raw afternoon towards evening” when he fearfully learns “the identity of things”: that he is in a churchyard, that he is an orphan, that the surrounding “wilderness” is the marshes, that the beyond is the river, that the wind comes from the “savage lair” of the sea, and that “the small bundle of shivers growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, [i]s Pip”. Just as he has articulated this litany to himself, Magwitch arrives from behind his parents and siblings’ graves, crying “keep still you little devil, or I’ll cut your throat”. Rather than possessing any childhood faculty of wonder, Pip has a darkened and guilt-ridden Gothic imagination. After an acquaintance of Magwitch turns up one night at the village pub to give Pip money, he conjures images of the man shooting him with an “invisible gun”. Fighting Herbert, he feels like “a species of savage young wolf”. By his adolescence, he reprehends himself for things he has not even done.
In starting Pip’s story with him reciting Malvolio’s lines on greatness from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, Knight offers a more familiar, and less striking character: the intelligent boy from the provinces knowingly superior to those around him and desperate to leave what is beneath him behind. This Pip neither needs nor has a dark alter-ego whereas in the novel the journeyman at the forge, Orlick, expresses in action what lurks in Pip’s inner consciousness.
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SubscribeExcellent piece. But for the further illumination of this novel we might turn to France, to Balzac, who also created vain heroes dazzled by wealth and metropolitan glamour; whose hearts were similarly misdirected and hardened by the competitive rush for conquest and success. The point of all these works is less the source of such success – it can be perfectly legitimate (in ways which only Marxist hysterics would criticise); the danger arises from reliance upon one’s own mettle in a defensive and calculating spirit which gradually drives out the capacity to love. Some would call this process maturity, but the Romantic nineteenth century did not. The dispute is found between Blake and Bacon, the former calling the latter’s essays of civil and moral counsel “good advice from Satan’s Kingdom”. Jane Austen? More of the Bacon tendency, perhaps. Balzac himself? Well, in figures like de Rumbempre, he is Blakean; in Rastignac, however, he supplies a figure of Baconian success. Like Milton, perhaps he was “of the devil’s party without knowing it”. It is on this axis of a personal, individual response to the circumstance of being alive that the novel’s true concerns are to be found. Sociological issues are simply the surrounding colour of the canvass. And in this latest eructation from the Beeb we have the ultimate philistine rejection of this point.
Excellent piece. But for the further illumination of this novel we might turn to France, to Balzac, who also created vain heroes dazzled by wealth and metropolitan glamour; whose hearts were similarly misdirected and hardened by the competitive rush for conquest and success. The point of all these works is less the source of such success – it can be perfectly legitimate (in ways which only Marxist hysterics would criticise); the danger arises from reliance upon one’s own mettle in a defensive and calculating spirit which gradually drives out the capacity to love. Some would call this process maturity, but the Romantic nineteenth century did not. The dispute is found between Blake and Bacon, the former calling the latter’s essays of civil and moral counsel “good advice from Satan’s Kingdom”. Jane Austen? More of the Bacon tendency, perhaps. Balzac himself? Well, in figures like de Rumbempre, he is Blakean; in Rastignac, however, he supplies a figure of Baconian success. Like Milton, perhaps he was “of the devil’s party without knowing it”. It is on this axis of a personal, individual response to the circumstance of being alive that the novel’s true concerns are to be found. Sociological issues are simply the surrounding colour of the canvass. And in this latest eructation from the Beeb we have the ultimate philistine rejection of this point.
Don’t get why so many intelligent reviewers across all media over the last ten days are flexing their intellects and wasting key strokes taking to pieces what’s patently a risibly rubbish dramatisation. Do better instead to critique Blue Lights (iPlayer), the chunkiest, chewiest bit of TV storytelling since…well …Dickens.
Don’t get why so many intelligent reviewers across all media over the last ten days are flexing their intellects and wasting key strokes taking to pieces what’s patently a risibly rubbish dramatisation. Do better instead to critique Blue Lights (iPlayer), the chunkiest, chewiest bit of TV storytelling since…well …Dickens.
Lean’s film is, like Alastair Sim’s portrayal of Scrooge, nonpareil. If one wants to read a tremendous adaptation of Pip’s story from another perspective, I can’t recommend highly enough “Jack Maggs” by Peter Carey.
And once you have done that, read everyting else Peter Carey has written, you won’t regret it.
You better believe it. Brilliant writer, good advice!
You better believe it. Brilliant writer, good advice!
And once you have done that, read everyting else Peter Carey has written, you won’t regret it.
Lean’s film is, like Alastair Sim’s portrayal of Scrooge, nonpareil. If one wants to read a tremendous adaptation of Pip’s story from another perspective, I can’t recommend highly enough “Jack Maggs” by Peter Carey.
Very helpful and insightful piece. I have been nervous since I first heard this series was to be aired. The trailers promised …. “from the writers of Peaky Blinders”…. more sexed up….. more woke…..more sweary…. the signs weren’t good. Got to say that Episode 1 wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. But I am not hopeful for the remainder!
First time commentator! Be gentle…
Your comment Paul reflects pretty much how I felt and in many ways I liked it
I’m reserving judgement though until I actually see the rest..
I did feel a lot of the time I was watching TABOO series 2 .. cant wait for that!
OK after seeing Ep 2 I’m done with this series. I really can’t bring myself to watch another episode. Dramatisations usually inform my recollection of a novel, and I have too many precious memories of GE. I don’t want those memories infected by this tripe – particularly not by Matt Berry’s buttocks!
OK after seeing Ep 2 I’m done with this series. I really can’t bring myself to watch another episode. Dramatisations usually inform my recollection of a novel, and I have too many precious memories of GE. I don’t want those memories infected by this tripe – particularly not by Matt Berry’s buttocks!
First time commentator! Be gentle…
Your comment Paul reflects pretty much how I felt and in many ways I liked it
I’m reserving judgement though until I actually see the rest..
I did feel a lot of the time I was watching TABOO series 2 .. cant wait for that!
Very helpful and insightful piece. I have been nervous since I first heard this series was to be aired. The trailers promised …. “from the writers of Peaky Blinders”…. more sexed up….. more woke…..more sweary…. the signs weren’t good. Got to say that Episode 1 wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. But I am not hopeful for the remainder!
Watch Korean drama – it’s superior in every way.
Watch Korean drama – it’s superior in every way.
Thank you for an excellent review that sheds new light on a great classic, I will have to re-read it! Also saves me wasting time watching the latest adaptation and getting cross about it.
Thank you for an excellent review that sheds new light on a great classic, I will have to re-read it! Also saves me wasting time watching the latest adaptation and getting cross about it.
Don’t get why so many intelligent reviewers across the media over last ten days are flexing their intellects and wasting key strokes taking to pieces what is patently a risibly rubbish dramatisation. Talk about pile-on. Or shooting fish in barrel.
Do better instead to critique “Blue Lights” (iPlayer), the chunkiest, chewiest bit of TV storytelling since…well…Dickens.
I haven’t watched this GE as I know the story, and much as I love Ms Coleman I just can’t be arsed! However although I watch very little tv I did watch the first episode of Blue Lights and was gripped as it was so very well done – not for everyone though as my missus wasn’t that impressed – Hey Ho.
I haven’t watched this GE as I know the story, and much as I love Ms Coleman I just can’t be arsed! However although I watch very little tv I did watch the first episode of Blue Lights and was gripped as it was so very well done – not for everyone though as my missus wasn’t that impressed – Hey Ho.
Don’t get why so many intelligent reviewers across the media over last ten days are flexing their intellects and wasting key strokes taking to pieces what is patently a risibly rubbish dramatisation. Talk about pile-on. Or shooting fish in barrel.
Do better instead to critique “Blue Lights” (iPlayer), the chunkiest, chewiest bit of TV storytelling since…well…Dickens.