The dullness of His Dark Materials

So I did say a few blog posts back that I was longing to rubbish something and was hoping His Dark Materials (as adapted by the BBC) would be it. When it comes down to it, though, I've not been looking forward to writing about this series, even though it makes a pretty good subject for rubbishing. The problem is that it wasn't bad in a way that's entertaining to pick apart - it was just very, very boring.

The fantasy world wasn't original enough to be interesting. The dialogue was leaden and slow-moving. Most of the characters were so paper thin they were hardly there. Consequently, the actors didn't have much to work with, and it felt like most of them didn't even try. The plot was a pretty standard "brave child goes on an adventure in order to save her world" story, and wouldn't you know it - Lyra, the child, is a Chosen One. To be fair, I believe His Dark Materials predates Harry Potter and a few other instances where this plot has been used, but even so - a story where the protagonist stumbles into an adventure and becomes a hero or heroine based on their own actions is a lot more satisfying than one where the hero/heroine is somehow preordained to be great. And still, the Chosen One plot is everywhere, not least in a fantasy context. What often connects these stories is that the side characters are far more fascinating than the main one, because they don't have a prophecy or what have you backing up a claim to be special: they have to earn the readers'/audience's interest. The mulish Lyra isn't the worst Chosen One protagonist on offer - she has too much character to be bland - but she's not the best either. The overall impression is of a run-of-the-mill fantasy plot rather poorly executed, and interwoven with scenes from "our world" which - far from having that eerie, "what's wrong with this picture" feel when reality meets the fantastical which you ideally get from a meet-the-companion episode in Doctor Who - are the most mind-numbingly dull in the whole series.

The one consistently excellent thing about this series is Ruth Wilson's magnetic performance as Mrs Coulter. She can make you engaged in even the most cumbersome lines and lifts every scene she is in. Apparently, she's supposed to be blonde in the novels, which does make me wonder whether it would have killed them to put a blonde wig on her to please book fans, but apart from that there is nothing to criticise here. Lin-Manuel Miranda as the aeronaut Lee and his long-suffering daemon, the hare Hester, are fun but not in any way central to the plot. The boy who played Lyra's best friend Roger did a pretty good job of not being annoying, I thought. The daemons (described as the souls of the characters which follow them around in the shape of an animal, and from which the humans in this world cannot be separated without dire consequences) are cute. But as positives go, that is pretty much it.

Now, I admit I didn't want to like this series. From what I've heard of Philip Pullman, he is a man with whom I would have little in common by way of opinions and beliefs, and far from keeping his private, he seems fond of professing them both in his fiction and outside of it. However, the ideas expressed in the BBC series are too confusing to be very provoking. I was expecting to want to shout at the screen, not to yawn my way through episode after episode.

Let's look at, for instance, the much-talked-about anti-Christianity which is supposedly all over the book series of His Dark Materials. So the bad guys in charge of Lyra's world are called the Magisterium, which is obviously some sort of church. Within the framework of the TV series, though, they're no different from any other sort of Fantasy Dictatorship. They might as well be called the Government (and be evil politicians), the Corporation (and be evil businessmen), the People's Representatives (and be evil revolutionaries), the Nobility (self-explanatory)... take your pick. Aside from being called "Father" and "Cardinal", what do they do that is specifically churchy? Well, I mentioned the cute soul animal creatures called daemons, right? Now, the Magisterium is running a terrifying experiment where they kidnap children in order to remove them from their daemons, which is supposed to make the children better beings eventually but has so far only made them catatonic. Oh, I see, because removing people from their souls is definitely something Christianity is about. No, wait...

Mrs Coulter later explains to Lyra what exactly the Magisterium has against the daemons. It appears that they are considered to be excellent playmates when kids are young, but once the children hit puberty their daemons - in the eyes of the Magisterium - start to lead them astray and towards sinfulness. Right... so not that soulful then, are they? Or are we ditching the soul-body split altogether, and is Pullman's point that for example sex drive is as much a thing of the soul as of the body and should not be frowned upon? That's pretty interesting, but if your argument is that the body and soul are one, why introduce a soul concept in the shape of cute daemons in the first place?

It gets more confusing when taking into account the discussions on Dust. Dust is an invisible substance that settles on the people of Lyra's world, but only the adults. The children are free of it. The Magisterium sees it as a harbinger of original sin. Lyra's father, Lord Asriel, sees it as something good and wants to use it to move between different worlds. He talks lyrically of a world without the shame and guilt induced by the ideas of the Magisterium. OK. I can see where he's coming from. Except: 1) Inducing shame and guilt isn't something specifically tied to religion. Sadly, it seems to be part of human nature to want to castigate oneself for being unworthy, while also pointing a finger at others for being even more unworthy so you can feel virtuous by comparison. I could mention some very secular shaming campaigns of late. 2) Needless shame and guilt is a bitch. I couldn't agree more. But there is such a thing as warranted feelings of guilt, which are a result of having a conscience. You know, the thing that tells us that abducting kids and performing experiments on them is A Bad Thing. The series ends with Asriel performing a daemon-child split of his own for his greater good, which sort of proves the point that his morality is no better than the Magisterium's. 3) Weren't the daemons the ones who were supposed to bring on adolescence and the naughty shenanigans the Magisterium wants to get rid of? So which is it, Dust, or daemons?

Maybe Pullman's ideas are better explained in the novels, and maybe they will be made clearer in subsequent series of His Dark Materials. I don't think I'll be watching any more, however. I can be grateful for the BBC His Dark Materials for one thing: I no longer feel guilty for not giving the novels a try. No needless shame and guilt, then.