'Little Dorrit,' part five

This is going to be LONG. Get your popcorn and your beverages (preferably caffeinated) ready. . . .

Hortensia General! That wasn't in the book, I don't think. Too funny. (Reminds me of C. S. Lewis: "There once was a boy named Eustace Clarence Scrubbs, and he almost deserved it.") Good heavens, what's with all the declarations of love that are actually making it to fruition? First John, then Arthur, now Mr. Dorrit!

Poor Mr. Dorrit -- his paranoia turned into self-fulfilling prophecy. Mrs. Merdle's face is priceless. I don't understand why Amy stands there for so much of this looking blank. It's what the director wanted, I guess, but it comes across pretty poorly and is very un-Amy-like.

Oh, boy. Frederick Dorrit just brought me to tears with "I'll keep him company." Well done, James Fleet. Very, very well done. *Sniffle*

Isn't Amy back in London a little early? Edmund, as usual, is a hoot, but I can't believe that even Fanny could say all those things in front of Amy!

(Cheese and anchovy paste on toast, by the way, is the grossest thing I've ever heard of.)

Arthur: "I'm your flesh and blood!" *Choke, cough, sputter* Davies, you old jokester, you'll be the death of me yet. You're having way too much fun with the ironic foreshadowing. I love everyone getting caught on the landing when Arthur opens the door. These filmmakers really know how to use an ensemble cast.

Holy CRAP, a reunion scene! Pardon my French, but that's what I have in my notes. It's literally all I could think to write. As I hinted before, Amy's still supposed to be in Italy at this point. Poor Arthur isn't getting her sarcasm, I'm afraid. At this point he isn't getting much of anything -- except hurt. This scene is turning out to be horrible. It could have been good, but it's horrible. If I might slip into psychiatric parlance for a moment, Amy is meant to be Arthur's "safe place," the person he can trust and be comfortable with when he's beset from all other sides. And she would never speak that way to someone whom she loves and respects and who's been nothing but kind to her. Bad, bad, BAD idea.

Nice epitaph for Mr. Merdle. And again Fanny strikes the practical note. Okay, she's funny, but we don't need to be wasting time on them just now -- ah, okay, here's Arthur. Macfadyen is terrific in this scene, and so is Marsan (Pancks apparently choking half to death notwithstanding). Fanny and Edmund again -- I have to admit I'm enjoying their cross-talk act. Arthur's friends are so dear, trying to hide him. And Arthur is so dear too, poor remorseful man. Somebody give him a hug already!

"What?" Well, Arthur, sweetheart, it sure doesn't take a brick building to fall on you! (Mom's verdict: "Clueless.") But seriously, both he and John are so touching in this scene.

How Blandois could have gotten into the Marshalsea after the gate was locked, I can't fathom, but this scene with him and Arthur is so well done I'll overlook the improbability of it!

Oh, gee, doctor, you're useful. "Take two brandies and call me in the morning, if you're alive." Ladies and gentlemen, Victorian medicine at its finest. Poor dear Arthur.

Who the heck kept telling Claire Foy to look blank in this installment? Couldn't we have a little more reaction to the news that the love of her life is sick and in prison? (By the way, who'd've thought Edmund would be so good at doing a "flit"? You know you're in trouble when Edmund Sparkler is the guy giving you your instructions.)

I love the way Amy takes charge of the situation with Arthur -- no snapping or shrewishness, just calmly telling him the way it's going to be. THIS is the Little Dorrit I know and love.

We never did get much of Tattycoram's story. Well, we don't in the book either. It's just left undeveloped. From Dickens I almost get a sense of "Oops, forgot to do anything with Tattycoram -- let's just have her take charge of the box, bring her back home, and use her to teach the lesson 'Don't bite the hand that feeds you.'" Which is a good enough lesson, but probably would have been much stronger if she'd actually had a plot of her own. But in a book with so many plots, I guess now and then one slips through the cracks.

Why is Mrs. Clennam smiling? If she still thinks Blandois doesn't know what he's talking about, she's pretty darned dense. I don't think the Tattycoram intercuts are a very good idea here. The situation is confusing enough. But the explanation of the secret does make sense -- mostly. (See the post about the Clennam family secret that I'll be putting up momentarily.) But they could have arranged the revelation a little better. Case in point: DUH, Affery! What do you mean, who was the child? How many children has Mrs. Clennam ever raised? The whole thing would have flowed better if they'd said upfront that the child in question was Arthur, since it's screamingly obvious anyway. 

But the actors are rocking this scene. Blandois's expression after Mrs. Clennam's "He knew no mother but me," for example. I think that's the first time he's ever felt sorry for Arthur. Kudos to Judy Parfitt for making that "I can walk!" moment believable (more believable, it must be said, than Arthur's hopping out of bed with a merry "I'm well!").

And there goes the house. Well, Blandois always said he would be the fall of the House of Clennam. The wheelchair up on top is a nice touch. Wait, did Mrs. Clennam just die? That's a new one -- in the book she didn't die until after the close of the story. I have a feeling I know why they changed it, though. . . .

I don't think the Casby/Pancks scene works too well here. The vengeance of Pancks takes too long, and that makes it lose its effectiveness. I suppose it's harder to act these things than to write them, but Dickens had him swooping in and shearing Casby like an avenging angel; here it looks more like "Come sit down and I'll give you a haircut."

I wouldn't want to get between Fanny and her hatbox, I'll tell you that. 

Nice little moment for Flora here. I like how her real nobility and dignity finally shine through.

And here's why they had Mrs. Clennam die: so Arthur could be told the truth about his real mother. Well, I can't deny it's a good idea; I've always regretted that we didn't see that scene in the book. (Good, they got John's epitaph in there! It's kind of delaying what we're all waiting for, though.) I wanted Amy to be the one to tell him the truth, but oh well. Aw, now this is a sweet scene. Really, really sweet. Awwwwwwww.

Has anyone ever been this happy to be poor? Well, if it gets you a guy like Arthur, it might not be so awful at that!

Hmm, so they're going with "He really loved Amy all along, and not Pet at all!" Well, okay, I can live with that. It's not like I ever had any emotional investment in the Arthur/Ditz relationship.

I do think Doyce might have been a little kinder at first and told Arthur straight off that everything was okay. But at least he finally got it out. This ending is awesome -- there's something so It's a Wonderful Life about it. Arthur's real mother loved him, his fake mother loved him, Amy loves him, Doyce forgives him, he can pay all his debts, and he still has his job . . . and apparently he and Amy are going to be liplocked for all eternity. Well, good on 'em! It's taken them long enough to get there. And Cavaletto is enjoying it so, bless his romantic little Italian heart.

(By the way -- I have to admit that Davies's handling of the name issue is an improvement. Don't anybody faint. But a husband would not call his wife "Little Dorrit." He just wouldn't. And no wife would want to be called "Little [Insert Maiden Name Here]." My dear Dickens, I'm sorry, but you did flub that one. I never could believe, and never did believe, that Amy wouldn't want her husband to call her by her actual name.)

This is a far bigger wedding scene than in the book, but I guess you have to have something pretty big to wrap up an eight-hour miniseries. And the important thing is that it's their wedding! Woohoo, they made it! But there's one thing they should have stuck to from the book, and that's having Amy "simply dressed." (Her wedding dress has to be purple? Bright purple? PLEASE!) And off they go to their happy-ever-after. Hurray!!

And that's a wrap! For me, that is. Now it's your turn to comment on the conclusion!

Comments

[David Perdue]

Loved the series...and your commentary was great as well. Thanks Gina!

[Gina]

I'm honored! Thank you so much.

[Jun]

I am quite curious about Davies' choices to deviate from the novel at certain places, especially since he is surprisingly faithful to the description and dialog most of the time. The unhappy encounter between Amy and Arthur after she returned to London is entirely an invention. I'm not sure exactly the purpose of the scene or the cause of Amy's harshness toward Arthur. Maybe the script had a longer explanation that was cut.

Dickens must be relatively easy to adapt because his writing is so visual and atmospheric.

[christopher harris]

Gina, you have done an absolutely masterful job in keeping all of us up to speed and following all of the delightful nuances in this beautifully done adaptation. In the main, I believe that Andrew Davies has done a very credible job in bringing this wonderful book to the screen. Yes, I agree that he used some artistic license that I might question, but all in all I thought it came off very nicely. My wife, who's never read the book (and is not likely too;>), loved this story from start to finish. I guess the way that we should all look at it; is if one more person is inspired to pick up the novels of Charles Dickens then this has been a resounding success.

Now, I'm off to buy the DVDs and watch it all over again! And get ready for "The Old Curiosity Shop."

Once again, Gina, well done! You are a priceless asset to the enjoyment of Dickens! Cheers! Chris

[christopher harris]

A final thought...

I kinda wish that Davies' screenplay had used the minister's words at the wedding of Little Dorrit and Arthur; i.e., something to the effect of "...the birth of Little Dorrit was recorded in the Church register's first volume; she rested her head on the second volume (when she was out at her 'party' with Maggy that long cold night), and her marriage to Arthur was recorded in the third volume..." It was a beautiful and simple summation of the plot of the book in my mind.

[christopher harris]

Here's the actual quote to the Registers referenced just after the wedding of Amy and Arthur.

"Little Dorrit's old friend held the inkstand as she signed her name, and the clerk paused in take off the good clergyman's surplice, and all the witnesses looked on with special interest. "For you see," said Little Dorrit's old friend, "this young lady is one of our curiosities, and has come now to the third volume of our Registers. Her birth is in what I call the first volume; she lay asleep on this very floor, with her pretty head on what I call the second volume; and she's now writing her little name as a bride, in what I call the third volume."

I just loved this when I first read it!

[Jun]

The novel was hasty enough in wrapping up, but the TV series rushed even more. I wish they spent a little more time and care to film this last part in the book, which I regard as the triumphant climax of the entire story:

'I have been anxiously waiting to tell you. I have been longing and
longing to tell you. You are sure you will not take [my fortune]?'

'Never!'

'You are quite sure you will not take half of it?'

'Never, dear Little Dorrit!'

As she looked at him silently, there was something in her affectionate face that he did not quite comprehend: something that could have broken into tears in a moment, and yet that was happy and proud.

...

'Yes! And it's all gone.--How much do you think my own great fortune
is?'

As Arthur looked at her inquiringly, with a new apprehension on him,
she withdrew her hand, and laid her face down on the spot where it had rested.

'I have nothing in the world. I am as poor as when I lived here. When papa came over to England, he confided everything he had to the same hands, and it is all swept away. O my dearest and best, are you quite sure you will not share my fortune with me now?'

[Gina]

That is a great quote, Jun. I like it too. :-)

There's something else I missed in the ending, and that was Mr. Meagles's playing a role. He came to be a father figure to Arthur, and goodness knows the guy could use one. I love the part where he showed up in the Marshalsea and "opened his arms and folded Arthur in them, like a sun-browned and jolly father."

[Jun]

Well, yes, although I got a sense from the book that Dickens was somewhat conflicted about Mr. Meagles. He is one of Dickens' more ambiguous characters (like Mr. Micawber) with plenty of failings within his sunny disposition, rather than one of the more "purely good" characters. I am dying to know why CD would take such drastically different approaches to writing "good" characters: Some are clearly idealized (eg, Agnes in David Copperfield, Amy in Little Dorrit, Lizzie in OMF) while others he portrays with a ruthless objectivity on their endearing and exacerbating qualities. Same with villains -- some are portrayed as totally evil and others with the same ruthless objectivity of their ambiguity. Mrs. Clennam is a prime example. One must remember that it is she who set everything in motion by employing Amy Dorrit out of nothing but to help her and thus repent her past wrongs -- even though she absolutely refuses to acknowledge her wrongs.

As good as the TV adaptation is, the nuances in the novel are too many to name.

[Jun]

Gina, I totally and completely agree with you on the name issue! The novel made a big fuss over the pet-name "Little Dorrit" that sounds a bit demeaning and condescending. In fact, Davies' adaptation made a point of having Arthur call her "Amy" much more throughout the series than in the book. Along with other changes made by the filmmakers to level their respective positions, this is an effective and deliberate choice to make the story more palatable to modern audience, especially women. There is an unmistakable emphasis on the distance (age and class) between the two characters in the book (Arthur being the "protector" of Amy). It was perfectly fine in the 1800s but hard to swallow now.

[Gina]

Yes, that's one place where I can't see eye-to-eye with Dickens. Throughout most of the book, I don't mind the nickname in general -- it seems to me that it would be a logical middle ground, in a more formal society, between having to call her "Miss Dorrit" or "Miss Amy" all the time, which they were too close for, and calling her "Amy," which probably wouldn't have been considered proper. (That doesn't mean I don't like hearing him call her that in the miniseries! :-) ) But after marriage -- no way.

Dickens is funny about names. And everyone seems to have their own preferences and dislikes among them. In "Great Expectations," I'm rather partial to Herbert's nickname for Pip, "Handel." I don't know why, I just am. But John Irving, who wrote the introduction to my edition, hates it with a passion. In "David Copperfield," however, I can't stand it when Agnes calls David "Trotwood." It just sounds weird to me. But I've never heard anyone else say they have a problem with that one!

[Helen]

Gina, when I watched David Copperfield it jumped out at me for the first time how everyone (or each group/family) has their own name for him and how that's part of the story. Trotwood is an extremely weird name but I think it's part of the denial of the aunt perhaps that it isn't specifically a boy's name so it helps her not be continually confronted by him being the 'wrong' gender each time she says his name. As well as it linking David to her, showing her commitment to take care of him from then on. And quite quickly it comes to be a name said by her with great affection, weird as it is.

As for Little Dorrit, I suppose in the book it struck me as her wanting to keep the link to her first memories of him. I can understand it coming across as demeaning, but on the other hand, it seemed clear to me in the book that Arthur greatly respects Amy by the end, even if he does start out by thinking of himself more as her protector.

[Helen]

Anyway, about Little Dorrit - Gina, I just read your reviews of each part with great interest, having discovered your site after Oliver Twist aired (in the US) and enjoyed your comments on that.

I don't know why I waited until the end to read them. But anyway, as before I appreciate your detailed observations on the characters, scenes - the ones that were done well, the ones that weren't, the differences from the book and your opinions about that.

I read the book years ago and didn't remember it AT ALL. Part I on TV started out so dreary and sad I was wondering if I'd like this one (even though Dickens is my favorite novelist). But I stuck with it and by partway into Part II I was seeing the typical variety and color of Dickens coming out in the various characters and enjoying it.

I started the book last week because I didn't want to get ahead of the TV series (I've finished it now). On the whole I thought the adaptation was pretty good - almost all the characters were excellently portrayed and most of the important storyline was kept/portrayed closely enough. Exceptions: I agree that Tattycoram was weird. I think they should have cast a Caucasian in the part so that implicit racism wasn't a possible issue. And somehow it didn't quite work to have her first scenes be so explosive and her so sullen - I think she needed to be more repressed more of the time to make it believable that the Meagles missed how angry she was. In the book it's somewhat lame how she goes back to the Meagles at the end (although I was glad she got away from Miss Wade). In general about the rush to the end - I've noticed this in other Dickens books - he does wonderfully with suspense through the book (although some of his hints are so obvious the secrets are guessable - one neat thing about this book was that as you (?) said, the big secret wasn't guessable) then has a rushed ending where everything is suddenly revealed and wrapped up.

I was a bit disappointed how the Gowans just dropped out of the story after the birth, but then found out they also disappear in the book. I would have liked a bit more closure on that and to know how they reacted to Arthur and Amy's marriage.

I liked how Rigaud was played except I don't understand why he was turned into a mass murderer in the TV adaptation. It did make him very sinister; but I think it's more believable that he used people but only killed one - his wife. And that could have been somewhat accidental since they were fighting on a cliff top. His not caring about her death afterwards is believable for sure since he used people all the time. On the other hand his poisoning Lion is rather weird if he didn't go around killing routinely. So maybe the series was more consistent than the book. Speaking of Lion, I sort of thought the TV take on his name was that it was one of Henry Gowan's sarcastic jokes to give him that name.

The Dorrits, Clennams, Flintwinches, Merdles, Barnacles, Chiverys, Casbys, Mrs F's aunt, Edmund, Cavalletto, Pancks and Casby were all awesome.

I also thought the bank scenes and Circumlocution Office were very well done. And the house.

The plot change I liked least, along with Rigaud's nature, was Amy rebuffing Arthur on her return to London. I don't see what it added and it made her showing up when he was ill as if that scene never happened seem implausible.

I didn't mind the explicit proposals too much. It didn't change the spirit of things much to have John explicitly propose to Amy and I didn't think it was totally unreasonable to have Arthur propose to Minnie, given that she wasn't particularly outwardly demonstrative to Henry. Which fits with the book. I did enjoy the book's theme of Arthur's denial about caring about Minnie, but I don't see how that could have been portrayed on TV.

I also loved Arthur's face when he first saw Flora again - priceless :)

I enjoyed Mrs General leaving as soon as Mr Dorrit's mind started going. And the scene where Amy finds the two brothers both dead was very well done.

On everything else I didn't comment on I probably agree with you :) Thanks again for sharing your observations. Reading them helps a little with with the post-series let-down!

[Gina]

Good points, Helen. But the strange thing is, I don't mind it so much when Aunt Betsey does it -- just when Agnes does it. Maybe it's just that *I'm* being weird.

Or maybe, again, it has to do with the romantic relationship. Maybe I just have some sort of a feeling that no matter what the rest of the world calls you, your beloved ought to use your real name! Perhaps it has something to do with the idea of "knowing and being known" that I wrote about in the "Further thoughts" post yesterday.

More commentary on the difference between now and the 1800s -- it seems to me that Arthur always respects Amy even when he does think of himself as her protector, though he later comes to respect her in a different way. Trying to look at the situation through his eyes, I see it just as a man trying to show kindness to a young woman in need without being too forward about it. (Now if he'd been trying to be a "protector" in the "sugar daddy" sense, that would be a whole different kettle of fish.) The main flaw in his perception is not looking at her condescendingly, as in "I know way more about the world than you, so your opinions have no merit," but simply looking at her as a little girl when she isn't -- and that comes from a mix of (a) wanting her to trust him and be able to confide in him, and thus giving her a lot of "just look at me as a father figure" talk, and (b) trying to recover from the Pet debacle by persuading himself that he's a decrepit old geezer who never had a chance at romance anyway.

It's true that Amy herself shows an inclination to take his opinions as gospel for a while, but I don't think it's because he encourages her to do so. I think that's just HER flaw, and a sign that she needs to develop more self-confidence.

Anyway, going back to Arthur's perspective, I think the movie did a good job of showing how he at last comes to see his mistake and to realize that he loves her as a woman.

[Helen]

Good points, Helen. But the strange thing is, I don't mind it so much when Aunt Betsey does it -- just when Agnes does it. Maybe it's just that *I'm* being weird.

Oh, I missed that you said Agnes. I should read more carefully :)

Or maybe, again, it has to do with the romantic relationship. Maybe I just have some sort of a feeling that no matter what the rest of the world calls you, your beloved ought to use your real name! Perhaps it has something to do with the idea of "knowing and being known" that I wrote about in the "Further thoughts" post yesterday.

I think this is about association and symbolism. To me, nicknames aren't necessarily a sign of not knowing someone. In a way I think they can be more intimate than someone's given name because they say - this name came about because of a particular connection I have with you. Isn't David's stepfather the only one who calls him by his given name David - and he is also the one who has no relationship with him, highlighted by his comparing his discipline of David with that of a rebellious dog or horse.

I can see that "little" in particular is problematic because it sounds patronizing/condescending. I can't see liking a nickname such as that.

Anyway, going back to Arthur's perspective, I think the movie did a good job of showing how he at last comes to see his mistake and to realize that he loves her as a woman.

Yes, I think they did that well - although if it were truer to period I assume they would have held hands as a sign of their new understanding rather than kissed. But I realize they weren't trying to be true to the period in those sorts of ways.

I also agree that Arthur failing to see he loves Amy as a woman is a lot to do with his shift after Minnie's engagment to perceiving himself as older than he is and beyond the time of life where he would succeed at romance. Maybe Dickens was also thinking the lack of love between his parents in his upbringing - so, nothing close to a role model of happy marriage - made it hard to know his own feelings in that area.

I was hoping the book had Arthur's revelation about loving Amy result from John telling Arthur Amy loved Arthur, after seeing it on TV. Because that's the sort of thing I'd rather they didn't take adaptation license with. I was glad the book did have it that way (although the details of the words and setting were a little different).

[Jun]

On the one hand, I think Davies made a good decision to close the "gap" between Amy and Arthur in the TV version, making her a little more forceful/less submissive and him a lot less "fatherly". On the other hand, I wish they had also ditched "I'm twice as old as you" line, which made me chuckle. I'm sorry, Macfadyen gave a great performance, but he simply does not look 40.

[blbarnitz]

"I don't understand why Amy stands there for so much of this looking blank. It's what the director wanted, I guess, but it comes across pretty poorly and is very un-Amy-like."

The dramatic realization of this scene seems to me at least, to rather faithfully reflect the description of it in the text, although within the dramatic compression of the scene, Amy only says "Father... Father" in trying to soothe him.

" 'My child, ladies and gentlemen. My daughter. Born here!'

She was not ashamed of it, or ashamed of him. She was pale and
frightened; but she had no other care than to soothe him and get
him away, for his own dear sake. She was between him and the
wondering faces, turned round upon his breast with her own face
raised to his. He held her clasped in his left arm, and between
whiles her low voice was heard tenderly imploring him to go away
with her."

'Born here,' he repeated, shedding tears. 'Bred here. Ladies and
gentlemen, my daughter. Child of an unfortunate father, but--ha--
always a gentleman.' "

[Christy]

"Holy CRAP, a reunion scene! Poor Arthur isn't getting her sarcasm, I'm afraid. At this point he isn't getting much of anything -- except hurt. This scene is turning out to be horrible. It could have been good, but it's horrible. If I might slip into psychiatric parlance for a moment, Amy is meant to be Arthur's "safe place," the person he can trust and be comfortable with when he's beset from all other sides. And she would never speak that way to someone whom she loves and respects and who's been nothing but kind to her. Bad, bad, BAD idea."

I completely agree with this. I had never read the book before I watched the miniseries, but I think I checked the book out from the library during the series and had it finished by the end of the series, so I knew this part was wrong. It was just so wrong. Arg!
I must say, I loved the characterizations of Young John, Mr. Pancks, and Flora. They were all brilliant, especially Flora.

[Emily]

Little Dorrit wore a purple wedding dress because she was still in mourning.