Sexist Tropes in "POLDARK"

 

SEXIST TROPES IN "POLDARK"

After watching the recent "POLDARK" television series for the past few years and reading the commentaries on these episodes and especially two particular characters - Demelza Carne Poldark and Elizabeth Chynoweth Poldark Warleggan - I have come to a disturbing conclusion. Despite the advent of the feminist movement, we still live a sexist society. Because our society remains sexist to this day, many people - women included - tend to view female fictional characters from a sexist view. This was especially apparent with the opinions of the two major female characters in "POLDARK", as demonstrated in articles like this.

I have noticed that producer Debbie Horsfield and many of the series' fans and critics seemed hellbent upon viewing both Demelza and Elizabeth through some Whore/Madonna trope. The situation regarding Demelza and Elizabeth strikes me as rather ironic. In many works of fiction and sometimes in real life, women of working-class backgrounds are usually perceived as sexually permissive or a "whore". And women from a middle-class or upper-class background are usually perceived as virtuous or "the Madonna". Not only do a good number of men apply this type of categorization upon women, other women do as well.

What made this trope ironic in "POLDARK"? The low-born Demelza - a miner's daughter who became main protagonist Ross Polark's servant and later, wife - has been regarded by many fans as virtuous or . . . "the Madonna". In contrast, Elizabeth Chynoweth, a landowner's daughter, has been more less labeled as a "whore" by said fans. Elizabeth, who had originally been courted by Ross before he left to serve in the British Army during the American Revolution, ended up marrying his cousin Francis Poldark. She later married Ross' neighbor and nemesis, George Warleggan after Francis' death.

I suspect that if Demelza had not married Ross and become the main female protagonist, she would not have become so highly regarded by the fans. After all, she was low born. And she had sex with Ross, while serving his household as a kitchen maid. Right before their marriage. Ross ended up coercing her into marrying him in order to put a stop to the rumors about them. But I believe what really saved Demelza from being labeled "the whore" by readers and television viewers was the presence of the one woman she regarded as her nemesis - namely her cousin-in-law and Ross' first love, Elizabeth Poldark Warleggan née Chynoweth. In the fans' eyes, Elizabeth had made the mistake of rejecting Ross upon his return from the American Revolutionary War and marrying his cousin Francis. The literary Elizabeth honestly thought she had loved Francis and felt that Ross would not be the right husband for her. The recent series depicted Elizabeth as a woman torn by her feelings for Ross and slightly coerced into marrying Francis by her mother. To make matters worse, following Francis' death, Elizabeth had married Ross' nemesis, banker George Warleggan for his money. She needed his money to save the Trenwith estate for hers and Francis' son, Geoffrey Charles.

I have a confession. Originally, I had believed this sexist view of both women stemmed from Demelza being the saga's main female protagonist and Elizabeth's rejection of Ross and her decisions to marry Francis and George. While Demelza was portrayed as this near perfect woman, especially in the series by show runner Debbie Horsfield; she was constantly praised by fans and critics for not only being "ideal", but also the "ideal" mate for Ross. Elizabeth was portrayed with a more negative tone. As I had stated earlier, Debbie Horsfield changed the nature of her reason for rejecting Ross and marrying Francis. Horsfield used Demelza's class origin as some kind of "Cinderella" fairy tale. Elizabeth was subtlety criticized for being a member of the upper-class and marrying Francis to maintain the lifestyle she was accustomed to. She was also portrayed as a woman who could not make up her mind about whom she wanted to marry. And then came that night of May 9, 1793.

Any fan of Winston Graham's novels or the two television adaptations of his saga knows what happened that month - Ross and Elizabeth conceived his third child and her second - Valentine Warleggan. For years, many fans have asserted that Valentine's conception was an act of consensual sex between the pair. The 1975-1977 series had portrayed Ross raping Elizabeth before pretending that rape never happened. The 2015-2019 series was worse. It had Ross assaulting Elizabeth and on the verge of raping her. Before he could, she consented to sex at the last moment, transforming their encounter into a "rape fantasy". Only Winston Graham's 1953 novel, "Warleggan", portrayed the encounter as rape. The author condemned Ross' act for the rest of his literary series - something that many fans refuse to acknowledge.

Yet, even before the rape, Horsfield did her level best to set up sympathy toward Demelza and condemn Elizabeth at the same time. As in the novels, Ross had spent a good deal of time at Trenwith, helping the recently widowed Elizabeth deal with estate debts. But in the series, Demelza, her cousin-in-law Verity Poldark Blamey and the audience blamed Elizabeth instead of Ross; who seemed hellbent upon enjoying Elizabeth's company as much as possible. Horsfield even added a scene in which Demelza made a snarky, yet hostile comment about Ross' time at Trenwith that clearly blamed Elizabeth. And fans, to my utter disgust, cheered this moment of misogyny. Horsfield included another scene after the rape that featured an encounter between Demelza and Elizabeth in the woods (this also never happened in the novel) in which the former accused the latter of having a sexually illicit encounter with Ross. Again, I found myself disgusted by this obvious attempt by Horsfield to demonize Elizabeth for something that was never her fault. I felt equally disgusted by the fans' cheers over Demelza's words.

After the series' adaptation of "Warleggan", I thought I would see the last of this less than ambiguous handling of both Demelza and Elizabeth. I did not. Horsfield provided other examples of idealizing Demelza's character and vilifying Elizabeth's. In the novels that followed "Warleggan", both women had committed major mistakes.

Elizabeth had supported her second husband George Warleggan's attempt to force a marriage between her cousin Morwenna Chynoweth and a highborn vicar from Truro, the Reverend Osbourne Whitworth, who proved to be an abusive husband. Mind you, Elizabeth was not solely to blame for this marriage. One, it was George's idea and he was the one who finally coerced Morwenna into marrying Osbourne - at least in the series (Morwenna's mother was the one who finally coerced her in the novel). But Elizabeth did support his action. It was probably the worst thing she truly ever did. Unfortunately, Horsfield felt this need to portray Elizabeth as a cold and scheming woman, who proved to be initially cold to her younger son Valentine. This never happened in the novel. Worse, Horsfield had transformed Elizabeth into both an morphine addict and alcoholic as a means to express the struggles she suffered as George's wife. Again . . . this never happened in the novel. Why Horsfield thought this was necessary. I have no idea. Elizabeth had found George's paranoia over Ross rather stressful, but not to the point of her becoming an addict.

On the other hand, Horsfield had went out of her way to portray Demelza as this perfect lady, who sang whenever the screenplay allowed actress Eleanor Tomlinson to display her singing ability. There were moments of Demelza racing across the countryside on horseback like some Harlequin Romance heroine in an effort to save her younger brother Drake Carne from being set upon by George's bullies. Actually, some locals came to Drake's rescue in the novel. There was also the matter of Demelza's initial refusal to support her brother Drake romance with Morwenna. Demelza used the differences in Drake and Morwenna's classes as an excuse for her lack of support, claiming she did not want to see both of them suffer in an unhappy marriage. I found this rather hypocritical, considering Demelza had married outside of her class. The series had went out of its way to avoid Demelza's unwillingness to contemplate the idea of Elizabeth's cousin as her future sister-in-law. Although she ended up supporting Drake and Morwenna's relationship in the end, Demelza continued to wish her brother had married a woman of her choice instead of Morwenna in one of Winston Graham's later novels - despite the happy marriage the pair managed to create. The one true terrible act that Demelza had committed was her brief affair with Royal Navy officer Hugh Armitage. Actually, they only had sex once. But once was enough, as far as I am concerned. Many viewers had excused Demelza's infidelity as an act of bad writing from Graham or Horsfield. One blogger used Demelza's rushed romance/marriage to Ross as excuse for her to experience an actual romance with someone of her age. And there were those who used Ross' infidelity - namely the "eye for an eye" - as an excuse. Frankly, revenge sex has never struck me as a good excuse to cheat on one's spouse, unless he was a serial abuser like the Justin LaMotte character from the "NORTH AND SOUTH" series . . . or Osbourne Whitworth. Ross may have been guilty of raping Elizabeth, but I do not recall him ever abusing Demelza in that manner. However, I do not recall anyone slut shaming Demelza for her affair with Hugh.

I might as well be frank. Neither Demelza or Elizabeth were perfect. And neither were monsters. Both women possessed flaws and virtues. And yet . . . the fans and writer Debbie Horsfield seemed incapable of accepting both as complex women. Fans had behaved as if Demelza was the greatest thing since the invention of the wheel. They regarded Elizabeth as "the Whore of Babylon" or worse, a weak and manipulative woman. They seem incapable of facing Demelza’s faults - other than her naivety in late Season One. And they seem unwilling to acknowledge Elizabeth’s virtues. Horsfield's writing for the series did a lot to support their reactions.

I find myself wondering if this inability to accept the ambiguity of both women stemmed from a refusal to acknowledge the idea of Ross Poldark harboring love for two different women at the same time. I do not know. Perhaps this scenario went against their ideals of "true love", marriage and a Harlequin Romance-style story. The unfortunate thing is that producers like Debbie Horsfield of the current series and the producers of the 1970s series - Anthony Coburn and Morris Barry - had seemed more than willing to constantly feed this "Whore/Madonna" mentality regarding the two characters.

"NORTH AND SOUTH" Trilogy Locations

Below are images of locations used in the television adaptation of John Jakes’ "NORTH AND SOUTH" Trilogy. The three miniseries aired between 1985 and 1994:



"NORTH AND SOUTH" TRILOGY LOCATIONS



Boone Hall Plantation; Mount Pleasant, South Carolina - This plantation had served as the exterior shots for the Main family’s South Carolina plantation, Mont Royal in "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOKS I & II":





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Stanton Hall; Natchez, Mississippi - This mansion was used for the interior shots of the Main family’s South Carolina plantation house, Mont Royal in "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOKS I & II" :





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Calhoun Mansion; Charleston, South Carolina - This manor house served as the Hazard family’s Lehigh Station, Pennsylvania mansion, Belvedere in "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOKS I & II":





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Greenwood Plantation; St. Francisville, Louisiana - This plantation had served as the South Carolina plantation, Resolute; which was owned by the Mains’ neighbor, Justin LaMotte in "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOKS I & II":




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Jefferson College; Washington, Mississippi - The rooms at this former all-male college had served as the barracks at the U.S. Military Academy in West Point, New York in "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK I":





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Sunset Station; San Antonio, Texas - This historic train station had served as the rail terminal station in St. Louis, Missouri in "HEAVEN AND HELL - NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK III":

"A Family Scandal in the 'NORTH AND SOUTH' Trilogy"

"A FAMILY SCANDAL IN THE 'NORTH AND SOUTH' TRILOGY"

I love John Jakes' "NORTH AND SOUTH" Trilogy. Honestly, I do. I love it so much that I have copies of the novels published between 1982 and 1987 that make up the trilogy. I love it so much that I have also copies of the television adaptations (1985-1986; 1994) of the novels, produced by Wolper Productions. Unfortunately, the trilogy has a few narrative problems. And I feel that one of its biggest problems centered around a particular painting. 

I am referring to a certain painting that hung inside an expensive New Orleans. This particular painting depicted a beautiful young woman, who also happened to be one of the prostitutes that worked there. This particular prostitute was favored by the bordello's owner. More importantly, she left the bordello and her profession in order to marry one of her customers. Despite her European ancestry, this woman was the granddaughter of an African-born slave. She also happened to be the mother of one of the "NORTH AND SOUTH" Trilogy's main characters - Madeline Fabray. And she eventually became the mother-in-law of three other main characters. 

Before I continued, I want to say a few words about the painting of Madeline Fabray's mother that was created for the first two miniseries, 1985's "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK I" and 1986's "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II". I did not find it impressive. Look at that dress worn by the painting's subject. It looks cheap and tacky. Not even a high-priced prostitute like Madeline's mother would wear such a dress. Even worse, the dress and hairstyle worn by the subject failed to reflect the right decade. Madeline Fabray had been born in the mid-1820s. This meant that her mother must have been a prostitute between the late 1810s and early 1820s. The hairstyle and dress worn by Madeline's mother seemed to reflect that the painting had been created between in the mid-1840s and early 1850s - at least two to three decades after Mrs. Fabray's death. Wolper Productions really made a mistake in allowing this painting to serve as an image of the late Mrs. Fabray. But the story that surrounded both the character and the painting struck me as a lot more problematic. And the trouble began in John Jakes' 1982 novel, "North and South".

In 1846, two years after her marriage to South Carolina rice planter Justin LaMotte, Madeline Fabray LaMotte had traveled back to her hometown of New Orleans to care for her dying father. Before he finally passed away, Nicholas Fabray informed his daughter that both she and her mother were of mixed blood. One of Madeline's ancestresses was an African-born slave, which meant the late Mrs. Fabray was one-fourth black and Madeline, one-eighth. Shocked by this revelation, Madeline kept this secret to herself for years, until she finally confessed it to her lover and husband's neighbor Orry Main - one of the novel's two main characters - after she left her brutish husband in the late winter of 1861. Despite his initial shock, Orry took the news rather well and eventually married Madeline, following Justin's death during the early months of the Civil War.

Unbeknownst to Madeline and Orry, an Army officer named Elkhannah Bent had already learned about her mother's background . . . former profession. Bent first met Orry during their years at West Point. Orry, along with his best friend, Pennsylvania-born George Hazard, became Bent's enemies. When they nearly caused his expulsion from West Point, he vowed to get his revenge. He nearly got Orry killed at the Battle of Churubusco, during the Mexican-American War. Neither the Hazards nor the Mains had heard about Bent for years, until they learned he was the immediate commanding officer of Charles Main, Orry's younger cousin, in Texas during the late 1850s. Either in 1858 or 1859, Bent visited Charles' quarters for a talk and spotted a photograph taken at a picnic held at the Main family's estate, Mont Royal. Among the subjects in the photograph were Madeline and Justin LaMotte. Bent seemed taken by Madeline's looks. In January 1861, Bent was recalled back to the War Department in Washington D.C. During his journey from Texas to the East Coast, Ben visited an expensive bordello in New Orleans - the same one where Mrs. Fabray had worked some decades ago. There, he spotted the infamous painting inside the office of Madam Conti, the bordello's owner. Bent learned from Madam Conti that the painting's subject was not only of mixed blood, but also a former prostitute who had married well. Noticing the physical similarities between Madeline LaMotte and the painting's subject, Bent ascertained that the two women were related. For reasons that still amaze me, he decided that this bit of knowledge could serve as a weapon against Orry Main. 

In the 1984 novel, "Love and War", Bent returned to New Orleans about a year-and-a-half later, during the second year of the Civil War, and stole the painting, jeopardizing his Army career. Realizing that he no longer had a military career, Bent deserted from the Union Army and journeyed toward Richmond, Virginia – the capital of the Confederacy. Nearly two years later, he managed to find and acquaint himself with one of Orry’s younger sisters, Ashton Main Huntoon. Bent had chosen well. Orry’s vain and unpleasant sister had estranged herself from the Main family, following her attempt to arrange the murder of her brother-in-law, Billy Hazard, for rejecting her years earlier for younger sister Brett. Once Bent had revealed the infamous painting, along with Madeline’s family history, to Ashton; the latter revealed everything to guests at a private reception that included Confederate Senator Judah Benjaminof Louisiana and Christopher Memminger, a South Carolinian resident who was serving as a Secretary of the Treasury for the Confederate States. Orry’s superior, General John H. Winder had "requested" that he send Madeline away from Richmond. Orry sent Madeline to the Hazards’ home in Lehigh Station, Pennsylvania and resigned his position at the War Department before assuming a field command toward the end of the Overland Campaign in June 1864.

The adaptations of the 1982 and 1984 novels - 1985's "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK I" and 1986's "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II" - took a different spin on the tale. One, Madeline did not learn the truth about her mother from her father until 1854, ten years following her marriage to Justin LaMotte. She told Orry about her secret some three months later, leading him to insist that she leave Justin and accompany him to the North. However, events involving Madeline and a secret abortion for a pregnant and still single Ashton Main led to the end of Orry's plans. Madeline more or less became a prisoner of her husband for nearly six-and-a-half years. Justin LaMotte died during the summer of 1861 and a few months later, Madeline and Orry became husband and wife.

As for Elkhannah Bent, his discovery of the painting also unfolded differently. In the television version, Bent (who was an amalgamation of the literary Bent and a character named Lamar Powell), was visiting New Orleans in 1856 or 1857, when he met Ashton's new husband, James Huntoon. He was in New Orleans to give a pro-secession speech. The pair, along with two other men, proceeded to Madam Conti's bordello. When James removed his wallet from his jacket, a photograph of his and Ashton's wedding reception fell from his wallet. The photograph contained the bridal pair, the Main family and a few guests that included Justin and Madeline La Motte. Apparently, this was not Bent's first visit to the bordello. While waiting for one of the madam's prostitutes to finish with a customer, Bent and Madam Conti had refreshments in her private office that contained the painting of Mrs. Fabray. While the madam told Bent about the painting's subject, he quickly surmised that Mrs. Fabray and the Mains' neighbor were blood related. Some four years later - between the end of "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK I" and "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II" - Bent managed to acquire the painting. Only neither miniseries revealed how he did it. I can only make the assumption that he had purchased it from Madam Conti. In Episode 2, Bent revealed the painting to Ashton, who had become his lover. Instead of revealing Madeline's secret to Richmond society, Ashton used her knowledge of the painting and Mrs. Fabray's past to blackmail Madeline into leaving Orry and Mont Royal for good. Two years later, days after the war ended, Madeline and Orry reconciled in Charleston.

Superficially, there seemed to be nothing wrong with the narrative regarding Madeline's mother and the painting in both Jakes' novels and the television miniseries. Superficially. However, both the novels and the miniseries revealed a major blooper. Why on earth did Elkhannah Bent went out of his way to get his hands on that painting? Why? In both the 1982 novel and the 1985 miniseries, Madeline was revealed to Bent as the wife of a neighboring planter. Neither Charles Main in the novel or James Huntoon in the miniseries knew about Madeline's romantic connection to Orry. Which meant that Bent was not aware of this relationship, as well. In both the novels and the miniseries, Bent did not find out about Madeline and Orry's relationship until after he got his hands on the painting. so, Why would Bent risk his professional career in "Love and War" to steal the painting featuring Madeline's mother, if he was unaware of Orry's emotional connection to her daughter? Or pay good money to purchase the painting (which is my theory, by the way) in the television adaptations?

I wish I could say that matters got better in the third act of Jakes' trilogy. But it did not. Another mystery regarding the painting manifested. In both the third novel, 1987's "Heaven and Hell" and the third miniseries, 1994's "HEAVEN AND HELL: NORTH AND SOUTH BOOK III", the locals who lived in the same neighborhood as the Mains seemed aware of Madeline's African ancestry and the profession of her mother. My question is . . . how? How did locals like her first husband's cousin, Gettys La Motte discover her family secret in the first place? Who had spilled the beans?

In "Love and War", Jakes had made a point of both Judah Benjamin and Christopher Memminger attending the reception where Ashton had revealed Madeline's secret. However, Benjamin moved to Great Britain after the war and Memminger ended up in North Carolina, following his resignation as Secretary of the Treasurer in July 1864. Ashton, her husband James, and her lover Lamar Powell were forced to flee Richmond for the New Mexico Territory after Orry exposed their plot to assassinate the Confederacy's president, Jefferson Davis. Lamar Powell killed James Huntoon before being killed by an Apache warrior upon their arrival in the Southwest. Ashton arrived in Santa Fe a few days later, stranded and without any funds. It took her at least four years to return to South Carolina. So none of the above could have revealed Madeline's secret to the Mains' neighbors. More importantly, Jakes never bothered to reveal how the news reached the South Caroline low country.

"NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II" told a slightly different tale. A year after Bent had exposed Madeline's secret to Ashton, she used the knowledge to blackmail her sister-in-law into leaving Mont Royal for good. However, neither Ashton or Bent ever told another soul. The only other people who knew about Madeline's mother were her former maid, Maum Sally, who was killed by Justin LaMotte back in 1856, during the debacle regarding Ashton's unwanted pregnancy; Orry; and his mother, Clarissa Main. And none of these people told a soul. Not even Ashton or Bent, which I find surprising. Like Jakes, the screenwriters for the second and third miniseries never made the effort to set up, let alone reveal how the Mains' neighbors learned about Madeline's secret.

It is a pity that the storyline regarding Madeline and her mother was marred by sloppy writing. It had the potential to be one of the most interesting arcs in the entire saga, especially since it focused upon attitudes regarding miscegenation in the United States . . . attitudes that lasted for another century following the saga's setting and still linger to this day. Oh well. There is nothing I can do about it. I suppose I can only regard it as a blooper and move on.

"CHARMED" RETROSPECT: (1.22) "Déjà Vu All Over Again"

"CHARMED" RETROSPECT: (1.22) "Déjà Vu All Over Again"

When I first saw (1.22) "Déjà Vu All Over Again", the Season One finale for "CHARMED", I promised myself that I would never watch another episode of the series again. Never. Yet four months later, I broke my promise and resumed watching the series for another three-and-a-half seasons. 

One would assume that I harbor some very negative feelings about "Déjà Vu All Over Again". And that person would be wrong. From an artistic point-of-view, the episode was first-rate. Not only do I consider "Déjà Vu All Over Again" to be one of the best Season One episodes, I believe it is one of the best episodes of the series. And yet . . . after watching it, I was ready to give up the series. The ending upset me very much.

Directed by Les Sheldon and written by Constance Burge and Brad Kern, "Déjà Vu All Over Again" began with Phoebe Halliwell experiencing a premonition of the most deadly kind. She saw a demonic attack result in the death of her oldest sister's former boyfriend, Andy Trudeau of the San Francisco Police Department. And the demon in question happened to be one Inspector Rodriguez, who was established as a member of the police department's Internal Affairs in previous episodes investigating Andy's connection to the Halliwell sisters. Determined to prevent Andy's death, Prue warns Andy that Rodriguez is a demon who has plans to kill her and her sisters - the Charmed Ones. As Rodriguez makes plans to kill the Charmed Ones, he receives a visit from a high-level demon named Tempus. The latter reveals he has the ability to turn back time and was sent by The Source to help Rodriguez kill the Halliwells. 

Mind you, "Déjà Vu All Over Again" had its flaws. In one conversation between Rodriguez and Tempus, the latter instructed the younger demon to make sure that all three Halliwells were gathered in the same place before killing them. Frankly, this sounds rather stupid to me. Surely, anyone with intelligence would know that the Halliwells were at their strongest when they were together. For me, it made better sense to kill the Halliwells one by one. After all, the sisters cannot stay in each other's company, 24/7, unless they want to forgo a life. And why did Rodriguez even bother to appear at the Halliwells' front door in the first place? He could have simply teleported inside the manor and kill the sisters a lot faster. According to(1.03) "Thank You For Not Morphing, Piper was born three years before Phoebe. And according to (1.17) "That 70s Episode", Phoebe was born in late 1975, making Piper's birth year 1972. Phoebe remembered that Piper's old classmate, Joanne Hertz, had graduated from their high school in 1992, making her birth year at least 1974. Why would Piper recall someone who graduated two years after her?

Aside from Tempus' suggestion that Rodriguez gather all three Halliwell sisters in one place before killing them, the flaws in "Déjà Vu All Over Again" seemed minor to me. In other words, the virtues outweighed the flaws. Burge and Kern nearly outdid themselves in an episode that served as the end of the first stage in the Halliwells' lives as the Charmed Ones. The episode also marked the end of what I consider to be the best romance featured in the entire series - that between Prue Halliwell and Andy Trudeau. Another interesting aspect about this episode is that it marked one of the rare occasions in which the sisters tragically failed to avert one of Phoebe's premonitions. Rodriguez made three attempts to kill the Charmed Ones, thanks to Tempus' time changing ability. If it had not been for Tempus, Rodriguez would have been dead after his first try. And so would Phoebe. After his second try, Rodriguez ended up dead again, thanks to Prue's telekinesis. But he ended up killing both Phoebe and Piper before his death. On his third try . . . Phoebe's premonition came true, when Rodriguez killed Andy. Is it any wonder that this episode depressed me? By this time, the sisters had figured out that someone was rewinding time and they cast a spell to break Tempus' time loop. Unfortunately, this act left Andy permanently dead. I supposed I should have foreseen this when I first saw "Déjà Vu All Over Again" all those years ago due to the scenes that featured Prue meeting Andy in a park to warn him about Rodriguez. Although their first meeting came off as slightly businesslike, their second and third scenes grew increasingly poignant and romantic. Both Shannen Doherty and T.W. King were excellent in these scenes.

Not only did this episode featured first-rate performances from Doherty and King, I was also impressed by the rest of the cast. All of them gave solid performances. Although I found him a tad over-the-top at times, 
Carlos Gomez was appropriately intimidating as the demonic assassin out to kill the Charmed Ones. But it was David Carradine who gave the best performance as the time manipulator, Tempus. He was witty, elegant and menacing. It seemed a pity that he never made a second or third appearance on the show. Even worse, his character was mentioned before being killed off-screen in the Season Three finale, (3.22) "All Hell Breaks Loose".

I am certain that my brief apathy toward "CHARMED" must have been figured out by now. This episode marked the last appearance of T.W. King as Andy Trudeau and it took me a long time to recover from this - over a year, to be exact. I had first became a fan of King, when I saw him in the short-lived series, "TIME COP". His portrayal of the sharp and no-nonsense Andy only solidify my admiration of him. Unlike Julian McMahon, of whom I also became a great fan, King's last episode proved to be first-rate and probably one of the best in the series. It seems a pity that it also proved to be one of the saddest for me.

"NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK I" (1985) - Episode Six "1860-1861" Commentary

"NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK I" (1985) - EPISODE SIX "1860-1861" Commentary

We finally come to the last episode of the 1985 miniseries, "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK I". And it is a doozy. This is the episode in which the Hazard and Main families unknowingly say good-bye to the past and present before their lives are turned upside-down by the American Civil War. 

Episode Six opens on Presidential Election Day (November 6, 1860), two days after Lieutenant Billy Hazard's arrival in Charleston, South Carolina; at the end of Episode Five. An excited Brett Main, who had been staying at her sister's home since her quarrel with their brother Orry at the family's plantation, Mont Royal anticipates meeting Billy. Brett's elation over her reunion with her fiancé during a luncheon is dimmed by his anger over Orry's reluctance to approve their marriage, and a violent encounter with a group of pro-secession thugs hired by Ashton to kill Billy. Following Abraham Lincoln's election as the new president, the state of South Carolina begin its preparations to secede from the United States. Before secession can be achieved, George Hazard visits Orry at Mont Royal to mend their estrangement and convince the other man to approve Billy and Brett's upcoming marriage. The two men go to Charleston to inform the engaged couple. Unfortunately, Billy receives orders to report to Fort Moultrie, which turns out to be a protracted stay following South Carolina's secession from the Union. Following Texas' secession a month later, Charles Main resigns from the U.S. Army and heads back home to South Carolina.

Less than two months later, Billy receives orders from his commander, Major Robert Anderson to report to the War Department in Washington D.C. and deliver dispatches. He uses the opportunity to marry Brett at Mont Royal. The wedding finally allows Ashton to plot her revenge against Billy, using Forbes LaMotte's help. Fortunately for Billy, Madeline LaMotte overhears Forbes, his Uncle Justin and friend Preston Smith going over Ashton's plot. With great difficulty and pain from Justin, Madeline escapes from Resolute and heads for Mont Royal to warn the Mains. Billy and Brett are ambushed by Forbes and Preston on their way to the rail stop. Just as Billy and Forbes engage in a duel that would have left the former with a useless pistol, Charles arrives in time to assist his friend. The conflict ends with Forbes' death at Billy's hand, Justin bereft of his nephew and wife, and Ashton banished from Mont Royal by Orry. In April 1861, Orry mortgages Mont Royal to return money that George had invested in their sawmill. During his journey north, Major Anderson had been forced to surrender his command at Fort Sumter. With small difficulty, Orry arrives at Lehigh Station, where he meets George and Constance's new daughter. Also, a vengeful Virgilia incites a mob to attack the Hazard home and lynch Orry. Fortunately, George manages to intimidate his neighbors into calling off the attack. Virgilia leaves Belvedere for the last time with some loot in hand. And George and Orry bid each good-bye before the latter departs Lehigh Station for his journey back to South Carolina.

I must say that "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK I" certainly ended with a bang. And a very satisfied one. There were some problems. I found Terri Garber's performance in a scene that featured Ashton's rant against Brett and Billy rather hammy. She gave a great performance throughout most of the miniseries. But this one scene was probably her weakest moment. I was very curious over Elkhannah Bent's appearance in Washington D.C. on the day of President Lincoln's inauguration. He was still wearing a U.S. Army uniform, despite the fact that his home state of Georgia had already seceded two months earlier. In fact, I found it surprising that Charles Main did not resign from the Army, until two months after South Carolina's secession. The miniseries continued its irritating habit of expressing an erroneous length of time for the period Madeline La Motte was being drugged by her husband. But the episode's real problem proved to be the character of Forbes LaMotte, nephew of Justin LaMotte.

I had no problems with actor William Ostrander's portrayal of Forbes. He gave a subtle and skillful performance. This was especially apparent in one scene in which Forbes, Justin and Preston discussed Ashton's plan to have Billy murdered. David Carradine was fine, despite a few hammy moments. On the other hand, David Weaver's portrayal of Preston Smith struck me as rather stagey . . . over-the-top. Only Ostrander managed to project any villainy with real subtlety. While watching Episode Six, I found myself wondering why Forbes had even bothered to help Ashton kill Billy. Why? I understood why in Jakes' novel. The literary Forbes was in love with Brett. He did not take her rejection of him no better than Ashton took Billy's rejection. I never got the impression that Forbes was in love with either Brett or Ashton in the miniseries. Forbes seemed to regard Brett's rejection as a minor annoyance. And his feelings toward Ashton seemed to be based on pure lust and amusement. So why did he agree to murder Billy on Ashton's behalf? The screenwriters' portrayal of Forbes is probably one of the miniseries' major failures.

However, I still regard Episode Six as one of the miniseries' better chapters. Once again, Richard T. Heffron proved his talent for directing crowd scenes. I was especially how he handled the growing frenzy and chaos of "secession fever" that permeated Charleston in two scenes - namely Billy and Brett's encounter with street thugs and the night Charleston announced South Carolina's secession from the Union. Ironically, the latter sequence began in Ashton's dining room, where Brett, Orry and George heard the bells of St. Michael's Church announced the secession. This latter sequence not only benefited from Heffron's depiction of the celebration in the streets, but also the Mains and George's somber reaction to the news. Other first-rate crowd scenes were in the sequence featuring Orry's northbound journey to Lehigh Station. They include the announcement of Major Anderson's surrender of Fort Sumter on a train headed for Philadelphia, Orry's encounter with fervent Unionists in that city, and his and George's encounter with a lynch mob instigated by Virgilia. The miniseries also featured one exceptional action sequence - namely Ashton and Forbes' attempt to murder Billy. From the moment Ashton learned of Billy and Brett's departure from Mont Royal to Forbes' death at the hands of Billy, this sequence crackled with energy, excellent pacing and suspension; thanks to Heffron's direction and a well-written score by Bill Conti. The episode also benefited from Stevan Larner's sweeping photography, especially in the secession sequences and the one featuring the murder attempt on Billy. In fact Larner earned a well-deserved Emmy nomination for his work in this episode. Vicki Sánchez offered some lovely costume designs for this episode. I was veryenamored of two particular designs worn by Terri Garber and Wendy Kilbourne:

 

But this day dress worn by Genie Francis really appealed to me:

 

Like the miniseries' other episodes, the dramatic scenes for Episode Six proved to be its pride and joy. Both James Read and Patrick Swayze provided some of their best moments in two scenes - one that featured George Hazard's visit to South Carolina in the episode's first half, and the other that featured Orry Main's perilous journey to Pennsylvania. John Stockwell had his best moment as Billy Hazard in a scene that featured Billy's anger over Orry's refusal to approve Brett's marriage to him. He had ample support from Genie Francis. I also enjoyed Jonathan Frakes and Wendy Fulton's performances in a scene in which Stanley and Isabel Hazard discussed their plans to take over Hazard Iron during George's absence during the war. It is a pity that Fulton did not reprise her role as Isobel. Both Mary Crosby and Deborah Rush gave solid performances, but Fulton seemed to personify the literary character. Hal Holbrook made his first appearance as President Abraham Lincoln in a fine and subtle performance - a skill that he will maintain in "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK II". However, the best dramatic scene featured Constance Hazard's attempt to convince her sister-in-law Virgilia to stay with the family in Lehigh Station, following the debacle with the lynch mob. Both Wendy Kilbourne and Kirstie Alley performed the hell out of that scene.

Despite certain flaws I had detected in Episode Six, I must admit that I really enjoyed it. The episode not only featured some exciting historical moments and a first-rate action sequences, but also some excellent dramatic scenes that brought out the best in producer David L. Wolper, director Richard T. Heffron and the cast. Episode Six proved to be the first example of how all three miniseries seemed to end on a positive note, production wise. "NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK I" might be flawed, it is still a joy to watch and one of my favorite miniseries of all time.

"NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK I" (1985) - Episode Five "1856-1860" Commentary

"NORTH AND SOUTH: BOOK I" (1985) - EPISODE FIVE "1856-1860" Commentary

Following the emotional and ugly incidents from Episode Four, events for both the Hazard and Main families become even uglier, as the United States inches closer to a full blown civil war. The ugliness culminates in a major event in the form of John Brown's famous October 1859 raid on Harper's Ferry in (then) western Virginia. 

Episode Five, set between 1856 and 1860, opened with Madeline recovering from Justin's angry reaction to her mysterious disappearance (helping a pregnant Ashton Main acquire an abortion from a low country free black woman). Unbeknownst to Madeline, La Motte's physician has recommended daily doses of laudenum to keep her "nerves" steady. Due to the laudenum, La Motte will keep Madeline drugged and under control for the next four-and-a-half years. Not long after Madeline's "recovery", a pregnant-free Ashton marries fiancé James Huntoon. Several months after the wedding, a bored Ashton unsuccessfully tries to convince Orry to take her on a trip to New Orleans, where Huntoon is giving a pro-secession speech to the city's inhabitants. Following his speech, Huntoon and three other men - including one Captain Elkhannah Bent - spend some time at a brothel owned by one Madame Conti. Huntoon and Bent exchange a few words, in which the latter spies a photograph of the former's wedding party. Bent not only recognizes his former classmate Orry Main, but is captivated by Madeline La Motte's image. During a later conversation with Madame Conti, Bent spots a painting that features the image of a former prostitute of mixed blood that turns out to be Madeline's mother. 

Two years later, Orry and Brett travel to Lehigh Station to visit the Hazards. Unfortunately, the visit goes sour when Orry and Virgilia engage in a quarrel, prompting the latter's brother to come to her defense. On their way back to South Carolina, the Main siblings encounter Virgilia and Grady, when their train is stopped by John Brown and his men during their raid on Harper's Ferry. The encounter also leads to a reunion between Orry and Priam, the former Mont Royal slave who had escaped over eleven years ago. Once Orry and Brett's train is allowed to continue south, Grady and Priam are killed by Virginia militia and Virgilia is captured. She ends up captured and placed in an insane asylum in Washington D.C. Upset over Madeline's continuing distant behavior and his estrangement from George, Orry gets drunk and quarrels bitterly with Brett over her desire to marry Billy Hazard. The following morning, she leaves Mont Royal to stay with Ashton and Huntoon in Charleston. And Billy arrives in the city to report for duty at Fort Moultrie.

Three major plot lines dominate Episode Five - Bent's discovery of Madeline's family history, Orry and George's quarrel, John Brown's raid on Harper's Ferry and Orry's quarrel with Brett. This episode featured at least three crowd scenes and a major historical moment. And I must say that director Richard T. Heffron handled all of these major scenes very well, especially the Harper's Ferry sequence. The sequence featuring Ashton and Huntoon's wedding reception reminded me of the details Heffron, cinematographer Stevan Larner and production designer Archie J. Bacon put into creating a low country South Carolina social event. These same details provided the episode with a memorable ending, which featured Billy's arrival in Charleston. But the Harper Ferry's sequence really struck me as impressive. One of the miniseries' best cinematic moments featured the sequence's closing shot of the rear of Orry and Brett's train disappearing into the night.

But there were minor scenes in Episode Five that proved to be gems. I was especially impressed by Heffron's direction of Bent's conversation with Madame Conti regarding Madeline's mother. The scene was greatly helped by fine performances from Philip Casnoff and Elizabeth Taylor. Another fine dramatic scene featured Orry's quarrel with Virgilia and George Hazard. All of the actors - especially Patrick Swayze, Kirstie Alley and James Read - did well in this scene. However, there were moments when the acting threatened to get a bit hammy. Another good dramatic scene appeared in the midst of the Harper's Ferry sequence - namely Orry and Brett's confrontation with Virgilia, Grady and Priam. I was especially impressed by Georg Stanford Brown and David Harris' performances in this scene. Johnny Cash made an appearance as abolitionist John Brown. He did a pretty good job, even if I had a little difficulty in accepting Cash's Upper South accent, while portraying a man from Connecticut. Kirstie Alley came back true to form in a scene featuring Virgilia's reunion with Congressman Sam Greene, portrayed by David Odgen Stiers. And both actors gave fine and subtle performances. Swayze, who seemed to be very busy in this episode, got to shine one last time in the scene featuring Orry's quarrel with Brett. Not only did Swayze gave an exception performance, but so did Genie Francis, who gave her best performance in the entire six-episode miniseries. However, the one scene that really stuck with me featured Ashton's attempt to coerce Orry into taking her on a trip to New Orleans. Not only did it provide some excellent performances from both Swayze and Terri Garber, but also an interesting moment that exposed Orry's own hypocrisy regarding the secessionist movement.

I have already discussed cinematographer Stevan Larner and production designer Archie J. Bacon's work in this episode. Bill Conti continued his fine work as the miniseries' composer. But of course, I want to discuss Vicki Sánchez's gorgeous costumes . . . again. I could wax lyrical about her work, but I believe the following images can express how I feel:

 

My favorite costume is Sánchez's re-creation of a Charles Worth gown for Constance Hazard:



The episode was marred by one major problem regarding the story's timeline. When Ashton asked for Madeline's help regarding her pregnancy in Episode Four, she informed the latter that her wedding to James Huntoon was scheduled for the following spring . . . of 1857. Yet, following Madeline's recovery from her husband's brutal treatment, Orry paid a visit to the La Motte plantation - Resolute - and announced that Ashton and Huntoon were scheduled to get married in a few days. Mind you, all of this was happening three months following Charles Main and Billy Hazard's West Point graduation . . . in September 1856. So . . . what happened? When did Ashton and Huntoon rescheduled their wedding six to seven months earlier? Or is this merely another blooper regarding the story's time line?

The painting of Madeline's mother that had grabbed Bent's attention in New Orleans struck a negative note within me. Madeline was born in the mid-1820s. This means that her mother must have been working for Madame Conti either between the late 1810s or the early-to-mid 1820s. The image of Madeline's mother looked like this:



First of all, the gown looked tacky. I cannot be more brutally frank. Second, both the gown and the hairstyle did not reflect the fashions of the 1820s. Instead, the painting looked as if it had been created during the 1840s or the 1850s. I do not know who created this painting, but I believe it was poorly made. And the miniseries' producer and production designer should have insisted upon something that accurately reflected the decade of Madeline's birth.

I have one last complaint. One of the best sequences from John Jakes' 1982 novel featured Charles Main's experiences in Texas and his conflict with Elkhannah Bent during the late 1850s. In Episode Five, Bent had met Huntoon in New Orleans. The city was a jumping off point for Army personnel traveling to Texas. One could easily assume that he was on his way to Texas. After all,"HEAVEN AND HELL: NORTH AND SOUTH BOOK III" did confirm that Charles had served under Bent during this period. So, why did producer David Wolper and the screenwriters avoided the sequence? Episode Five could have included Charles' experiences in Texas and ended the episode with the Harper Ferry's incident. The remainder of Episode Five - including Orry and Brett's quarrel, her flight to Charleston and Billy's arrival in South Carolina - could have been included in Episode Six, allowing that episode to be extended. After all, the final episode of the 1977 miniseries, "ROOTS" had been extended past ninety minutes.

Despite my complaints, Episode Five proved to be a fine penultimate episode for the miniseries. It featured some excellent acting by the cast, well directed dramatic scenes by Richard T. Heffron and a first-rate re-creation of John Brown's raid on Harper's Ferry. In the following episode, the Civil War is about to crash upon the lives of the Hazards and the Mains.