REVIEW: The Scapegoat (2012)
Sep. 23rd, 2012 04:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feather_ghyllThe Scapegoat
http://uk.imdb.com/title/tt2084977/
I was reminded by an advert on ITV that I’d wanted to see The Scapegoat and realised I certainly wanted to see it more than whatever they were airing at that moment, so I stopped my channel-hopping and went to see whether it was still on ITV Player. Luckily, it was. Still is, I presume
It’s adapted from a Daphne du Maurier novel – I own Jamaica Inn, but all I remember of it is it was set in Cornwall, there was smuggling and a dark-haired man was involved. I think I know what the story of Rebecca is by osmosis, although I’ve never read the book or watched the adaptations. It’s quite possible that I’ve seen other du Maurier adaptations unknowingly.
The story revolves around the idea of the Doppelganger – two men who share the same first name and, inexplicably, the same face bump into each other in a pub in Peterborough in 1952 (the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II is a thread in the story and was probably part of why it was commissioned to air in this Jubilee year. ) One is a Classics master who has just lost his job because his subject is seen as old-fashioned and is embarking on a walking holiday. After all, his only ties now are a maiden aunt in Fishguard. The other is a member of the upper classes (aristocracy, but definitely in trade) who is taking a rest between London and home because some business affairs he was involved in have not gone his way and he doesn’t want to face his apparently large family. He – Johnny – wants to disappear, and thinks he’s found a way to do so.
John wakes up naked and hungover the next morning to find that only Johnny Spence’s clothes are in the room. Outside the door is George the chauffeur who won’t listen to his – admittedly crazy-sounding – story and has come to deliver him back home. Home is a ginormous country pile (I didn’t catch the name if it was given) filled with posh women. John is given little opportunity to explain himself and, at some point, gives up trying, going along with the assumption that he is Johnny Spence. With him, we learn that the household comprises Johnny’s mother, who is informed of most things that are going on, even though she prefers to take morphine than get out of her bed; Johnny’s wife Frances, who is delicate and somewhat browbeaten by all the stronger characters in the house; Johnny and Frances’s daughter Mary Lou, also known as Piglet, who is somewhat morbid; Johnny’s younger brother Paul and sister Blanche with whom he doesn’t seem to have the best of relationships, while he seems to get on all too well with his sister-in-law. And she isn’t the only one.
John finds out the secrets of the house and that the family-owned company – Century Glassworks – is in dire trouble. Stepping into Johnny’s shoes, and being the man Johnny never could be, he tries to do something about it and make amends for the mistakes of the past. But, inevitably, Johnny returns – having meant to disappear about as much as he meant many of his other promises. We know that a certain legal provision puts a member of the family in grave danger and that Johnny is a nasty piece of work...
The ending, in fact the whole story was somewhat predictable. It’s a ‘safe’ story, a comforting one, where chaos is played with. Or so it seems now. Unlike The Prisoner of Zenda, which all the references to the Coronation also reminded me of, there’s no hint of the two men being related.
What holds it all together is an excellent performance by Matthew Rhys as the two men with the same face. It’s vital to differentiate between the two men in a role like this, and we always knew (apart from the one scene towards the end, which was intentional, although it was only a mystery if you hadn’t been paying any attention at all to the Frenchwoman’s words) you always knew who you were watching. He didn’t overplay it either, and was ably supported, with the actors mostly making their characters feel real.
It aired in the Downton Abbey slot the week before that show returned, and although Lady Spence’s maid Charlotte is a pivotal character (how fortuitous for the adapting screenwriter that Charlotte’s Web was published in that year), which is always clear from the outset, related somewhat to Mrs Danvers, I suppose, the other servants are complete ciphers. George’s deference, in particular, is a bit bemusing. He seems completely loyal to Johnny Spence, even though he knows better than most that he’s a cad. We don’t know whether he grew to believe the story John told him when they first met, because he must have noticed the difference between the men.
Anyway, the drama left me wondering about the fate of the real grand house in which the drama was filmed (it turns out it was Knebworth) - we know that the Spence family will fight for it at the end, but we don’t know whether they succeeded, and if they did how. Although with John firmly ensconced at the heart of the family, a more vibrant Frances pregnant and their daughter drawn into family life instead of being at the margins, I was quite happy to hope for them.
I just checked Wikipedia to see what changes they made (for instance, I couldn’t believe that Blanche’s lesbianism would have been set out so directly) and skimming the novel’s synopsis was instructive. A lot of changes were made – the original Spences are French, thus explaining their Catholicism, Alice Farr was Jean Duval and the ending is rather different.
http://uk.imdb.com/title/tt2084977/
I was reminded by an advert on ITV that I’d wanted to see The Scapegoat and realised I certainly wanted to see it more than whatever they were airing at that moment, so I stopped my channel-hopping and went to see whether it was still on ITV Player. Luckily, it was. Still is, I presume
It’s adapted from a Daphne du Maurier novel – I own Jamaica Inn, but all I remember of it is it was set in Cornwall, there was smuggling and a dark-haired man was involved. I think I know what the story of Rebecca is by osmosis, although I’ve never read the book or watched the adaptations. It’s quite possible that I’ve seen other du Maurier adaptations unknowingly.
The story revolves around the idea of the Doppelganger – two men who share the same first name and, inexplicably, the same face bump into each other in a pub in Peterborough in 1952 (the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II is a thread in the story and was probably part of why it was commissioned to air in this Jubilee year. ) One is a Classics master who has just lost his job because his subject is seen as old-fashioned and is embarking on a walking holiday. After all, his only ties now are a maiden aunt in Fishguard. The other is a member of the upper classes (aristocracy, but definitely in trade) who is taking a rest between London and home because some business affairs he was involved in have not gone his way and he doesn’t want to face his apparently large family. He – Johnny – wants to disappear, and thinks he’s found a way to do so.
John wakes up naked and hungover the next morning to find that only Johnny Spence’s clothes are in the room. Outside the door is George the chauffeur who won’t listen to his – admittedly crazy-sounding – story and has come to deliver him back home. Home is a ginormous country pile (I didn’t catch the name if it was given) filled with posh women. John is given little opportunity to explain himself and, at some point, gives up trying, going along with the assumption that he is Johnny Spence. With him, we learn that the household comprises Johnny’s mother, who is informed of most things that are going on, even though she prefers to take morphine than get out of her bed; Johnny’s wife Frances, who is delicate and somewhat browbeaten by all the stronger characters in the house; Johnny and Frances’s daughter Mary Lou, also known as Piglet, who is somewhat morbid; Johnny’s younger brother Paul and sister Blanche with whom he doesn’t seem to have the best of relationships, while he seems to get on all too well with his sister-in-law. And she isn’t the only one.
John finds out the secrets of the house and that the family-owned company – Century Glassworks – is in dire trouble. Stepping into Johnny’s shoes, and being the man Johnny never could be, he tries to do something about it and make amends for the mistakes of the past. But, inevitably, Johnny returns – having meant to disappear about as much as he meant many of his other promises. We know that a certain legal provision puts a member of the family in grave danger and that Johnny is a nasty piece of work...
The ending, in fact the whole story was somewhat predictable. It’s a ‘safe’ story, a comforting one, where chaos is played with. Or so it seems now. Unlike The Prisoner of Zenda, which all the references to the Coronation also reminded me of, there’s no hint of the two men being related.
What holds it all together is an excellent performance by Matthew Rhys as the two men with the same face. It’s vital to differentiate between the two men in a role like this, and we always knew (apart from the one scene towards the end, which was intentional, although it was only a mystery if you hadn’t been paying any attention at all to the Frenchwoman’s words) you always knew who you were watching. He didn’t overplay it either, and was ably supported, with the actors mostly making their characters feel real.
It aired in the Downton Abbey slot the week before that show returned, and although Lady Spence’s maid Charlotte is a pivotal character (how fortuitous for the adapting screenwriter that Charlotte’s Web was published in that year), which is always clear from the outset, related somewhat to Mrs Danvers, I suppose, the other servants are complete ciphers. George’s deference, in particular, is a bit bemusing. He seems completely loyal to Johnny Spence, even though he knows better than most that he’s a cad. We don’t know whether he grew to believe the story John told him when they first met, because he must have noticed the difference between the men.
Anyway, the drama left me wondering about the fate of the real grand house in which the drama was filmed (it turns out it was Knebworth) - we know that the Spence family will fight for it at the end, but we don’t know whether they succeeded, and if they did how. Although with John firmly ensconced at the heart of the family, a more vibrant Frances pregnant and their daughter drawn into family life instead of being at the margins, I was quite happy to hope for them.
I just checked Wikipedia to see what changes they made (for instance, I couldn’t believe that Blanche’s lesbianism would have been set out so directly) and skimming the novel’s synopsis was instructive. A lot of changes were made – the original Spences are French, thus explaining their Catholicism, Alice Farr was Jean Duval and the ending is rather different.
