A story about the life of the 16th century religious revisionist Martin Luther.
In India at the turn of the 20th century, a young English woman accuses an Indian friend of assault.
During World War II, a Hungarian Jewish leader proposes to the Soviets a deal from the Gestapo to allow one million Jews to emigrate from Central Europe.
Fast-paced despite a 100-minute running time, The Millionairess is perfectly suited to the unique talents of Maggie Smith, even if the political moralizing of the final act, combined with the somewhat sentimental take on marriage make for a sticky union. The first act of The Millionairess is Maggie Smith in her prime, raging and preening at the same time as she deliciously spits out the Shavian insults to the amused Barkworth. Throughout the play, the ping-ponging Shavian word play is deftly knocked about by Smith, who clearly relishes the chance to exercise her quick wits and flash-powder, pyrotechnical flourishes. Barkworth, a marvelous supporting player always seen in the background of British films (who also had a solid theatrical career), is every bit as engaging as the sanguine Sagamore, so much so that I missed their repartee throughout the rest of the film. Charles Gray, playing the type of role he often was stuck with, is amusing as always (looking like the Cheshire Cat when he sticks that square jaw out of his and slits up his sardonic eyes), while Tom Baker (famous for playing Doctor Who) does at times bring Dr. el Kabir off more like his Rasputin turn in Nicholas and Alexandria rather than as a typically Shavian male jouster. Directed by William Slater, The Millionairess does takes some missteps when it tries to "open up" the play, particularly an ill-advised photo montage sequence (set to supposedly "madcap" jazz) that's intended to bridge the time between Epifania's acceptance of Dr. Ahmed's challenge, and her completion of the task (I've seen these photo montages in other BBC productions from this period, and I suspect they were considered convenient cost-cutter solutions for dramatic problems). But overall, it's an agreeably feisty romp with Smith at the top of her game, even though admittedly it's not top-flight Shaw (nobody who's ever been married buys Shaw's defense of the institution at the end of the play). Based on the George Bernard Shaw
Oscar Wilde's novel video taped in 1976 as part of BBC's Play of the Month series. In 2009 The Times called it the "most Wildean" adaptation.
Ian Ogilvy and Helen Mirren star in this adaptation of JM Barrie's play, set in rural 1840s Scotland. A local priest falls in love with a Gypsy girl who incites a Luddite riot.
Chekhov's play, adapted for television by John Elliot. Platanov was a distinguished academic, now a village schoolteacher married to the simple but cheerful and loving Sasha. Platanov is a witty if temperamental guest, sought after at the dinner parties of Anna, a general's widow, who lives on her estate, deeply in debt, flirting with him. To the season's first dinner, Anna's aged stepson brings his new wife, Sofia, whom Platanov knew when he was a professor.
Dramatisation of Henry James's novel. Lambert Strether comes to Europe on a difficult and delicate mission. A chance meeting on arrival with the engaging Maria Gostrey provides him with much-needed support.
A woman cannot decide between two men who love her, and the trio agree to try living together in a platonic friendly relationship.
In Bernard Shaw's play, set 40 years into the future, the king must match wits with an unruly mistress and a cabinet seeking to transform the nation into a constitutional monarchy. Over the course of two acts and interlude he navigates a series of political challenges and verbally spars with his mistress Orinthia played by Helen Mirren. Mirren's Orinthia is pampered, devastatingly beautiful, and every bit the intellectual match of her royal lover. Even though she doesn't appear until after the first act, Mirren more than makes up for her early absence with a drawing room scene that can be considered the highlight of the play
A very proper young woman is horrified to discover not only that her mother once worked as a prostitute in order to support her, but that she later became a whorehouse madam rather than give up the business.
In 1965, a young Waris Hussein was perhaps the only experienced Indian director working in British television and was horrified when he discovered that the BBC was planning a TV adaptation of EM Forster’s A Passage to India without him at the helm. As luck would have it, a twist of fate meant he did end up in the director’s chair. Waris shares fond memories of his experiences, describing the filming challenges involved in portraying a true sense of India, recalling what it was like working with a stellar cast that included the likes of Dame Sybil Thorndike, Cyril Cusak and Virginia McKenna, and outlining the pressure to do full justice to one of the great novels of the 20th century.
