Minerva's Ramblings: North and South (2004 BBC Miniseries)

Let me start off by saying that Richard Armitage is quite possibly one of the most beautiful human beings on the planet (the other being Hugh Jackman). Whew. Now that we have got that out of the way…

Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South is a sweeping social drama that is so much more than a love story between a rich man and a poor woman. Having read the book and realized this, I was excited that this was a mini-series, which meant it had the freedom to explore the many different layers of narrative in the way a film would never have been able to.

While I loved the adaptation as a whole, a few aspects really stood out for me. Something that impressed me was its bold exploration of the thematic elements of the novel. I admit that there are some literary classics that are actually thinly veiled social commentaries masquerading as fiction. (Les Miserables immediately comes to mind – I love the main plot and characters, but there are parts – chapters upon chapters, to be specific – that have nothing to do with either and, frankly, bored me to tears). However, Gaskell does it differently with this book. She does not gloss over the social realities of her time, for instance as Austen does behind a façade of sarcasm and irony. Nor do her main characters descend into asylum-level madness or end up being the devil incarnate (yes, the Bronte sisters). Gaskell tells it exactly like it is, but also manages to avoid the overtone of pessimism and melodrama of some of her contemporaries such as Dickens and Hardy. North and South is ultimately a book that is extremely readable, realistic and uplifting all at once.

I am not one to think that a TV or film adaptation of a book must necessarily be a frame-by-frame replica of it. However, it irks me when they “dumb down” the complexities of the context, themes and characterizations of a literary classic, boiling it down to a linear storyline that could probably be summed up in a single sentence. One of the best things about this adaptation is that it does not reduce it to just another period romance, which, given the chemistry between the leads, it could have safely done. However, it goes way beyond to brilliantly portray the major issues highlighted in the novel, such as social class and prejudice, religious ideology, patriarchy, poverty, civil unrest, industrialization and urbanization. Nothing is black or white, or inherently good or bad. Every issue has positive and negative consequences; and while the spread of technology and industrialization is inevitable, those who do evaluate the social costs of their actions and strive to overcome them, are to be admired. 

Secondly, the characterization. There are a few fictional characters that I have fallen in love with during my lifetime (my therapist says this is completely normal). Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice, Gabriel Oak from Far from the Madding Crowd and John Thornton from North and South (sorry Mr. Rochester, you don’t make the cut). I am fiercely protective of these men (again, normal behavior) and so was somewhat dreading having to watch a reel-life Mr. Thornton, simply because I knew there was no way any actor could do justice to the role.

Boy, was I wrong. Never would I have imagined this in a million years, but Richard Armitage somehow manages to take a swoon-worthy character and turn it into someone even more swoon-worthy. John Thornton is a character full of contradictions – fiercely proud, yet humble; blunt, outspoken, yet quiet and reserved; madly in love yet forced to hide the true depth of his feelings. While such men are a delight to read off the page, they are also challenging to play on screen. Make them too stoic and silent and they come across as dull, boring, possibly borderline creepy (those who have watched the 2015 version of Far from the Madding Crowd but not read the book would never understand the wonderfully nuanced masterpiece that is Hardy’s Gabriel Oak); on the other hand, try to make them “interesting” or, God forbid, sex them up, and you run the danger of creating a strange alien who has little in common with the original character (Gerard Butler’s Phantom of the Opera, I am looking at you).

Armitage’s success is largely attributable to his incredible ability to emote so well without saying a single word. I know this is a basic talent that all actors are supposed to possess – yet Armitage takes it to a whole new level – when he is on screen, dialogue is simply superfluous. And when he does get around to talking, that deep baritone coupled with his British accent is something else altogether. Combine that with his smoldering looks (I am trying very hard to be objective here) and what you get is pure magic. Visually too, Armitage is the epitome of Gaskell’s brooding Victorian hero, with his stern brow and serious eyes that literally just light up with love whenever he catches sight of Margaret. 

North and South was my first and sadly, only introduction to Daniela Denby-Ashe, and as soon as I saw her on screen, I knew she was going to be perfect. Though the book is often compared to the much more famous Pride and Prejudice and John Thornton to Mr. Darcy, Margaret Hale, while she does start off prejudiced against Thornton, is no Elizabeth Bennett. In line with the grittier, darker themes of North and South, Margaret is a less outwardly bubbly, more openly cynical heroine whose ideas on life, love and happiness are directly shaped by the world she lives in. As a young girl she is tossed from one extreme to another – the quiet life of genteel poverty with her parents in the village of Helstone and the luxurious, indulgent abandon among her relatives in London. To this is added another dimension as, through no choice of her own, she is thrown deep into the harsh realm of industrial Milton. For much of the story, love is the least of her worries; she is almost constantly bombarded by sickness, death, poverty and violence.

Denby-Ashe has the kind of fresh-faced wholesomeness that suits her perfectly to the role of Margaret. Walking among the grime-covered streets of Milton, it is very easy to imagine how such a face would be a breath of fresh air for the town’s miserable inhabitants. Margaret, however, just like Denby-Ashe, is no ostentatious beauty; her beauty is of the purer, quieter kind, that is somewhat out of place among the finery and frippery of London society. And it is generally her demeanor rather than her beauty that commands the attention of everyone around her – her parents are somewhat in awe of her, Henry Lennox admires her, Bessie and Nicholas Higgins adore her, and Mr. Bell leaves her his inheritance. Even Mrs. Thornton, with her intense dislike towards the woman she believes will ruin her son’s life one way or the other, maintains a kind of grudging respect for her straightforwardness and honesty.

Of course, Margaret, like any well-written heroine is not without her faults; and Denby-Ashe presents these to us in a very realistic, relatable manner – her condescending attitude towards “shoppy people” such as Thornton, who “made their fortunes in trade”, her self-righteousness in the face of her father’s idealism and her mother’s lack of fortitude, the undercurrent of bitterness and jealousy she sometimes feels towards Edith, her rich and beautiful cousin.   

While the entire cast does a fantastic job, with special mention of the late Tim Pigott-Smith as Mr. Hale, Lesley Manville as Mrs. Hale and Sinead Cusack as the indomitable Mrs. Thornton, the standout performance for me (apart from the two main leads, of course) was Brendan Coyle as Nicholas Higgins. Coyle plays this complex character with great sensitivity – a rebellious trade union leader who grows to empathize with his boss; a man who tries to do what he thinks is right, though it will cost him terribly. We as the audience are fully invested in his character, and his growth is very believable. Next to Thornton and Margaret, I found Higgins the most interesting character in the series. 

Finally, the cinematography. The story takes place in three distinct geographical settings (Helstone, London and Milton), which also represent different phases of Margaret’s life and character arc. I love the contrasting use of colour and lighting to present these places as they appear in her consciousness at different times in the story. Milton appears almost completely colourless at first, reflecting her impression of the town as a dreary place fit only for death and misery. On the other hand, Helstone, shown to us in flashbacks of over-exposed colour, is too bright and beautiful to be true. While Margaret looks back on her childhood village as paradise, she fails to see the hidden poverty, the rigid class and economic structures that existed in rural England at the time. Over time, as her understanding grows, the colours of both Milton and Helstone appear more realistic. Despite its drawbacks Milton, unlike the village, offered an opportunity for self-made people like Thornton to achieve upward economic and social mobility.  

All said, I think this adaptation stays true to the original spirit of the book. However, what makes it so special is the way in which it creates moments that make we, the audience, care for the characters. Moments that stay with us long after we are done watching. Margaret, walking into Marlborough Mills among the floating cotton fluff, cold and lovely as falling snow (one of the most hauntingly beautiful scenes I have ever seen on screen); Mrs. Thornton’s face when she learns from her son that Margaret has refused him; Thornton’s smile as he realizes that after all, Margaret did not board that train to London.

And That Kiss. Definitely one of the most romantic on-screen kisses ever, it is the kind of kiss that puts The Notebook Kiss and the Titanic Kiss to shame. I could go on, of course, but let’s just say it is the kind of kiss that would make any girl wish she were Margaret…