Former friends turned enemies – an irresistible trope (at least for me)

Last week was exhausting, which means I'm a bit late with my blogging. Even now, I'm reaching for the easy option blog-wise. Instead of explaining why Pixar's Hoppers is really watchable and not at all the simplistic "Man the Destroyer" fable I had feared (my least favourite cliché or trope, together with "Eat the rich", and "Who are the monsters here"), I'm going to write about Young Sherlock on Prime.

There's no shortage of films or TV projects that want to hitch a ride on the Sherlock train without having much – if anything – to do with the great detective as described by Arthur Conan Doyle. I've mentioned these Holmesian rip-offs a number of times: the Guy Ritchie movies, the Enola Holmes atrocity (I never did watch the second film), The Irregulars on Netflix. Young Sherlock is undoubtedly the same kind of thing. And yet, as with The Irregulars, I ended up enjoying the series on its own terms, even if it is far from "the spirit of the original". 

I'm not going to go into the matter of why Holmes's good name keeps getting exploited again, as it's well-trodden ground. Instead I'll concentrate on another aspect of the series, the irresistible hook that kept me watching even though the banter of the first couple of episodes was pretty tired. In Young Sherlock, we see the future detective teaming up with an Irish Oxford undergraduate called – drum roll – James Moriarty.

Predictable? Yes. Wonderfully inventive? Not really. But it doesn't need to be. I'm a sucker for a story showing how the hero and his arch-enemy used to be friends. It's why I once sat through an enormously long film (which I think was meant as a TV series, something the DVD I rented did not make clear) called Neverland. It's why I've started to watch the TV series Smallville, in spite of having zero investment in the Superman universe (I'm admittedly only two episodes in, but so far Lex is being a great pal to Clark). It's why Master episodes in Doctor Who appeal to me, in spite of The Master being a bit too chaotic a villain for my liking. The friends-turned-enemies trope is "You and I are not so different" and the hero-villain team-up rolled into one, and I love it.

Admittedly, it could be more cleverly done than in Young Sherlock. You have to ask yourself why a Holmes-Moriarty team-up is so appealing when Holmes isn't behaving noticeably like Holmes and Moriarty isn't behaving noticeably like Moriarty. This Sherlock mostly resembles the Guy Ritchie movie version of Sherlock Holmes in his youth, which makes sense as Guy Ritchie directed some of this TV show's episodes as well. Young Moriarty is charming, full or Irish blarney and has some unscrupulousness about him, but there's little hint of a future criminal mastermind at work, or for that matter a future Mathematics Professor. They are less two geniuses trying to think their way to a solution to their problems, and more two boisterous young men who get into scrapes.

There are some hints that these are bright young lads, admittedly, and that they are uniquely on each other's wave length. While we don't get scenes where Sherlock rattles off brilliant deductions, we do see his power of observation, illustrated by time slowing down while he takes in all the details in a scene or a room. Intriguingly, we see Moriarty joining him in these moments, while he follows the same trains of thought. He is the only one who can enter young Sherlock's "mind palace" (to borrow a concept from BBC's Sherlock).

All in all, though, the show's main charm comes not from any impressive detective work on the part of the protagonists, but more from being a ripping yarn. I was a little doubtful during the first episodes, but when the series switches focus to an unsolved mystery from Sherlock's childhood, the plot thickens and becomes more gripping. However, there are no prizes for guessing who the ultimate Big Bad is (not Colin Firth's blunt Empire builder, no), and the motivation of at least one important character remains something of a mystery. 

This is not the kind of show that makes you feel clever for watching it. But if a 19th-century caper involving two bright hotheads, a female Chinese assassin, a former asylum inmate who (naturally) turns out not to be mad at all and the stiff straight man trying to keep some control over the situation sounds fun to you, you could do worse than giving Young Sherlock a watch. After all, Conan Doyle himself appreciated a good adventure story.                      

A fine year for Austen adaptations? Who knows...

I have to confess to feeling pretty tired today, too tired – as it turns out – for any analytical thinking. Even searching reviews of old children's classics are beyond me (I will get to the three best "shoe books" by Noel Streatfeild eventually). But when I have no energy to bellyache over future costume dramas, then all hope is truly lost, so I'll try that.

According to a video I caught on YouTube, 2026 will be a big year for Austen adaptations. The claim was made on the strength of two TV series and one film – one of the TV series is already airing (in Great Britain, if not here in Sweden) and the other two projects are in the pipeline. The simple question to answer, which even I should manage in my knackered state, is: do they look as if they'll be any good?

The Other Bennet Sister: Not really an Austen adaptation, but taking place in the Austen universe, as it were, as it's an adaptation of Janice Hadlow's novel with the same name. I really liked the novel  when I read it a couple of years ago; it made a good case for Mary Bennet without vilifying the other characters. The clips I've seen have looked promising, and the one review I've read so far was very positive indeed. 

There is a risk, of course, that the adaptation will overplay its hand when it comes to decrying the precarious position of Regency women. Not that it wasn't precarious, but I find I'm becoming more and more irritated with period dramas which tut-tut too loudly over the past (and I didn't have much patience with them to begin with). All the same, I'm cautiously looking forward to The Other Bennet Sister.

Pride and Prejudice on Netflix: Netflix doesn't have the best track record when it comes to Austen adaptations. This looks like a more serious attempt than the insane Persuasion from a few years back, though. Weighty actor names have been secured for it: I may be suffering slightly from Olivia Colman fatigue, but there's no denying she's a solid choice for Mrs Bennet, and I can't wait to see Rufus Sewell's Mr Bennet (is Mr Bennet really allowed to be more attractive than the story's love interests?) and Fiona Shaw's Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

What of the central couple, then? Here, I'm more wary. Emma Corrin was a great Princess Diana in The Crown, and made for an amusingly chaotic villain in Deadpool and Wolverine. However, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that Corrin got the part of Elizabeth Bennet before announcing themselves to be non-binary. Lizzy Bennet is all woman, and casting an actor in the role who doesn't commit to womanhood is something of an insult to us gals. Corrin could still be good, though.

If you think that's a shallow argument for doubting someone's suitability for a part, then how about this? Jack Lowden, judging from the pictures I've managed to unearth on IMDB, looks nothing like I imagine Mr Darcy. Still, for all I know, he could be a brilliant actor who will carry it off. Also, a spot of hair dye did wonders for Colin Firth, so maybe they'll use the same treatment here? I'm all for ginger men as a rule, but Mr Darcy is... not ginger.

This adaptation of Pride and Prejudice will be worth a watch, even if, as I think we can assume, it won't be able to hold a candle to the BBC version. But as it's a straightforward adaptation of Austen's most beloved book (though I'm more fond of Emma myself), the risk that it'll crash and burn is much higher  than with The Other Bennet Sister.

Sense and Sensibility: Before the aforementioned YouTube video, I had no idea this film was coming out this year, or even existed. For me it's an unknown quantity, which in itself is pretty exciting. The only name I recognised from the cast list was Fiona Shaw, again, in the very different from Lady Catherine role of Mrs Jennings. The casting director hasn't been too lazy but has gone for more unknown names (either that or I'm just hopelessly out of touch), and I respect that.

Now, if there's one thing that's harder to pull off than making a TV adaptation of Pride and Prejudice that can be mentioned on the same day as the Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth one, it's making a new Sense and Sensibility film when the perfection of the 1995 film exists. All the same, it should be possible to put a slightly different spin on the source material. Sense and Sensibility isn't such a polished product of a novel as Pride and Prejudice, but that can give an adapter a little more leeway.

Not much is known, and much can go wrong, but I'll watch this – as well as the other adaptations, naturally. Be prepared for much bellyaching if they prove to be horrible.

All right, season four of Bridgerton is actually pretty good

Has it come to this? Am I really reduced to blogging about Bridgerton?

As has perhaps become apparent, I'm not the greatest fan of this sumptuous smash hit of a Netflix series. That it should be my kind of thing has only made me more irritated with it when it's fallen short. To be honest, though, my biggest gripe with the show is not the languid pacing (wafer-thin main plots drawn out over eight hour-long episodes per season) or its shallow characterisation but the baleful influence the Bridgerton universe has had on costume dramas as a whole.

From the very first trailer, it was clear: this is Regency England, Jim, but not as we know it. Inexplicably, as it seemed then, the Regency ton was depicted as prettily and modishly diverse. It was as anachronistic as if a Rolls Royce had driven through the streets or the Queen had consulted an iPad to keep track of social events. 

The series later made clear that what we were looking at was an alternative universe, one where George III married a feisty African princess called Charlotte instead of a retiring German princess called Charlotte. Still, the conceit has never quite worked for me. Here's the thing: aristocracy is based on heredity. That's why many, including me, aren't frightfully keen on it. The older the family, according to this kind of thinking, the higher the prestige. The real English Regency élite would not have welcomed foreigners from far-off lands, even if they were high-born in their own countries, into their inner circle without a grumble. Much less would they have allowed the interlopers to supplant local families, at least not without a social upheaval equalling the one taking place in France at the same time. No revolution has shaken the Regency society of Bridgerton, however: the social mores of the ton remain what they've always been.

So what of it, you may ask: can't I give this one series a pass? After all, the premise, far-fetched as it is, has allowed the showcasing of talented actors who would otherwise not have been given the opportunity to try their hands at Regency foppery. And yes, I would be prepared to accept Bridgerton on its own terms, if it hadn't been for the domino effect. The show's success has led to even more wildly unhistorical imitations which don't even bother with the alternative-universe excuse, like the Netflix Persuasion or the episode "Rogue" in Doctor Who. Ideology is trumping common sense when it comes to period dramas; you can even see it in high-prestige projects like the final series of Wolf Hall. This is not exclusively Bridgerton's fault, but it makes its self-congratulating tone hard to bear.

All right then, let's say Bridgerton takes place in a realm entirely separate from any historical reality, a little like the fairy-tale realms of Once Upon A Time. How well does the actual drama work? As mentioned, I have been underwhelmed by previous seasons, but season four was a welcome surprise, and not only because it was an adaptation of sorts of the classic Cinderella story, something I am a sucker for. 

Yerin Ha makes an enchanting romantic lead as Sophie. I was less sure about Luke Thompson's Benedict, but their chemistry carried all before it. The episode where they got to know each other under the watchful eyes of Benedict's old retainers, Mr and Mrs Crabtree, while Benedict recovered from an attack at his "cottage" (a minor mansion), was a delight. Elsewhere, the subplots knitted together better than I'm used to from Bridgerton, and the character moments between the Bridgerton family members actually carried some weight. 

I was particularly pleased to see that Eloise, whom I have wanted to like (as Claudia Jessie is quite winning) but who I must admit has been a bit of a pill in previous seasons, was finally mending her ways after having been called out on her self-absorption by her younger sister Hyacinth. When she reconciled with Cressida, a supposed mean girl (more sinned against than sinning in my opinion) who was brutally shafted in the previous season but who now finally gets her happy ending, I could have cheered.

The season ends with a perfect hook. Throughout the series, a gossip sheet penned by "Lady Whistledown" has been a continuing connective plot thread. We got to know, somewhat too early in the series, who the Lady was, but now someone else has taken over the role, unbeknown to the original writer who has given the sheet up. I find myself quite engaged in the mystery. Bridgerton has won me over: just don't confuse it with history.

Chibnall does Christie – and it could have been worse

"From the creator of Broadchurch", an ad boasted, and my heart sank. When I nominated Seven Dials on Netflix as one of the 2026 shows I was looking forward to, I had no idea that the script-writer would be none other than Chris Chibnall, the inventor of The Timeless Child and the bane of Gallifrey.

I had a lot of problems with Chibnall's run as Doctor Who showrunner, which wasn't unexpected, as I didn't care for the Who episodes he penned during the reigns of his predecessors Russell T Davies and Steven Moffat either. Now, however, after RTD has botched his return to the show so badly, I've started wondering whether I judged Chibs too harshly. There were parts of his Doctor Who run I liked, such as the Flux series and The Power of the Doctor. Consequently, I was prepared to give his version of The Mystery of the Seven Dials (simply called Seven Dials on Netflix) a fair chance – or fairish at any rate.

In the end, Seven Dials turned out to be a solid good watch. Chibnall proved to be a better Christie adapter than Sarah Phelps, just as his Doctor Who run (with hindsight) can be said to be better than the RTD 2/Disney Plus era. The problem is, that's not saying an awful lot. I was grateful Chibnall didn't mess around more with the source material than he did, but there were still lots of moments when I had reason to recall why his Who scripts irritated me in the first place.

The basic plot is more or less the same as in Christie's novel, and her twists are intact. Chibnall has added one twist of his own, but I didn't think it detracted from the original story. Other tweaks of the plot were pardonable too. I don't quite understand why Bundle had to be in love with the first murder victim – it causes her to mooch around a great deal during the whole first episode – but I didn't mind it much. Gender-swapping Lord Caterham to an almost equally unlikeable Lady Caterham worked quite well, especially as she's played by Helena Bonham Carter. Mandatory diversity is built into the plot by making Ronnie Devereux of Indian descent and the brilliant researcher from Cameroon rather than Germany, but if we have to play the diversity game I much prefer these kinds of changes to "colour-blind" casting.

What is less easy to bear are the outbreaks of clumsy commentary, as if Chibnall just had to leave his 21th-century fingerprints everywhere. Sir Oswald Coote lunges into a Brash Capitalist rant about how class can be bought at one time, for no good reason that I can see. A whole scene is dedicated to showing how harsh Lady Coote has been to a maid. Lady Coote in the book was a good-natured creature who was bullied by the Caterhams' gardener, but I accept that making her sharper adds her to the roster of likely suspects, which is no bad thing. However, she doesn't have to turn into a servant terroriser. Lady Caterham's snobbishness is very on the nose, and the Cameroonian scientist makes a whole little speech about how he and others on the African continent had to fight at the behest of "European white men" which sounds a great deal more 2020s rather than 1920s.

It's not as if Chibnall has that good a grasp of the period he apparently feels superior to. When George Lomax laments the lack of political interest of young women, Bundle replies sweetly "gives us the vote and we just might [take an interest]", whereupon Lomax guffaws patronisingly. It's true that Bundle wouldn't have had the vote in 1925, but married women of 30 and over already had the right to vote since 1918, so the idea of extending this right further wouldn't have felt far-fetched even for Lomax. Lady Caterham tells Bundle that Bundle's brother died because of the mistakes of a "drunken old general". The High Command during World War One hasn't had the best press, but that is surely an oversimplified view of what went down. Officers trained in traditional warfare were ill-equipped to make tactical decisions in the first truly modern war; I would argue that their age and state of inebriation didn't have much to do with it.

But enough complaining. Chibnall may not be able to refrain completely from Chibnallisms, but compared to some of the pontificating we've had from other script-writers, and the right-out distortions of the source material we got from Phelps, they are simply mild annoyances. The best thing about this adaptation is not the script but the stellar casting. Mia McKenna-Bruce is spot-on as Bundle (though Chibnall should have given her a better grasp of grammar). Helena Bonham Carter is fun, as always. Martin Freeman makes a surprisingly convincing Battle, and his first confrontation with McKenna-Bruce's Bundle adds a welcome sparkle to the proceedings. Edward Bluemel is excellent as Jimmy Thesiger, and Alexander Macqueen is genuinely funny as Lomax. You wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of Mark Lewis Jones's Sir Oswald Coote, especially not if he was carrying his rifle and you were an aristo.

It's a shame that a few things are dragged out or added unnecessarily, while other aspects of the plot which were important in the book – Bill Eversleigh's feeling for Bundle, the efficiency of Pongo – get very little room. But all in all, this isn't a bad Seven Dials version. If Chibnall chooses to do a sequel of some kind (maybe adapting The Secret of Chimneys, though that would be reversing the original chronological order of the novels), I'm here for it. 

Things to look forward to in 2026

Happy Boxing Day! Which is often a reasonably good time to blog, so here goes. There are quite a few projects cultural-consumption-wise that I'm at least moderately excited about, so I'll stick with a roundup of films/TV/the occasional book I'm looking forward to rather than a wish list of what I would like to happen (those are always a bit trickier to write anyway). As in 2025, I'm not expecting to get too carried away and develop a new villain crush or anything, but you never know.

Seven Dials Mystery: Agatha Christie adaptations are a mixed bag, but this one, premiering on Netflix early this year, could be a fun one. The book it's based on is a romp, with some tongue-in-cheek references to the world of P.G. Wodehouse (though you don't have to pick up on them to enjoy it), and an almost guaranteed mood-lifter. The only thing I'm not too keen on in the book is a certain snobbishness – the heroine Lady Eileen aka Bundle is part of the aristocracy, and sometimes a faint contempt for New Money shines through. But Bundle is mostly likeable, unlike her ghastly dad.

I'm relying on Netflix to prune the snobbishness, but I'm a bit nervous about what else they'll change. Bundle seems well-cast, though.

A Tale of Two Cities: Apparently, BBC in collaboration with MGM+ is working on a new adaptation, and it has been a while since the last one. Two Cities isn't one of my favourite Dickens novels (Barsad is fun, but otherwise it's lacking in the male villain department). However, I do like it, and a French Revolution setting is always interesting. 

Moreover, this will give a good indication of whether the Beeb can still do Dickens or if they are too mired in cultural politics to get a classic adaptation right (I could only make it through two episodes of the latest "gritty" Great Expectations). Kit Harington aka Jon Snow in Game of Thrones plays Sydney Carton – no objections from me – but another actor plays his accidental double Charles Darnay. Well, OK then.

One Piece season two: I haven't blogged about this hard-to-define Netflix show – fantasy and pirate adventure mashup is how I'd describe the genre – but I had a great time with the first season of this live-action adaptation of an anime. The fictional world is quite insane, and the premise more than a little strange. The charismatic young protagonist Monkey D. Luffy is dead set from an early age on finding a fabled pirate treasure (the One Piece of the title) and becoming "King of the Pirates". His wild ambition becomes increasingly likely as he gathers a motley crew of talented misfits, acquires a ship and finds (well, steals) a rare map.

What makes the premise strange is that Luffy doesn't actually want to rob anyone, and doesn't seem to realise that this is what pirates do most of the time, rather than just hunt for treasure and go on adventures. Also, no-one points this out to him (his pal Koby, who ends up with the Marines, has a try, but is told that "there are good and bad pirates"). Encountering increasingly sinister pirate captains in the forms of a short-tempered female pirate with a skull-crushing club; a psychotic clown; a creepy con man masquerading as a butler; and finally a fishman with an anti-human bias does not serve as a wake-up call to Luffy. However, the sheer charm of the progatonists and lots of exciting derring-do carry the series through all absurdities (which are entertaining in themselves), so here's hoping they keep it up in the next season.

The Mandalorian and Grogu: As someone who enjoyed all seasons of The Mandalorian, even the third one, I have to include this on my list, though I'm not sure where next Din Djarin's and Grogu's story could go. But I like to spend time in this part of the Star Wars universe, so I'm happy to catch this at the cinema. Let's hope that, if Thrawn makes an appearance, he'll be more impressive than in Ahsoka, and that they don't waste too much time on Grogu-being-cute scenes.

Dark Reading Matter by Jasper Fforde: Finally, a Thursday Next novel! It's apparently the last one, but I understand that; it might be time to wrap up Thursday's story.  

I wasn't as fond of the latest Thursday Next novel, The Woman Who Died A Lot, as the other ones in the series, and I did not care for the last instalment of Fforde's The Last Dragonslayer series (which was never a great favourite of mine) or the stand-alone novel Early Riser. Consequently, I've been a bit worried about Fforde's fictional output lately. What with that obvious immigrants-as-rabbits allegory he wrote (to be fair, I haven't read it, but honestly – I hate this trope), I was afraid that he was suffering from the modern ailment of politicitis which has had a baleful influence on cultural output. But I was pleasantly surprised by the follow-up to Shades of Grey, Red Side Story, which though by no means unpolitical had the old Ffordian verve and inventiveness. So I'm cautiously optimistic. If I like Dark Reading Matter, it might be time for another full-length Jasper Fforde post.

Avengers: Doomsday: It's make-or-break-time for the MCU, and I will be there cheering the Avengers on, or possibly Doctor Doom. And Loki will definitely be in it!

A double dose of cosy crime dramas

The expression "cosy crime" is an odd one. It has a negative, somewhat patronising tinge, and I think few crime writers would whole-heartedly admit to penning "cosies" (as they're called in the latest Carol Goodman – I don't know if it's an established term). People who enjoy cosy crime like myself, though, don't tend to be shy about it, and bookshops sometimes proudly label a whole section of their shelf space as "cosy crime", so their customers don't risk going home with something grim and gritty by mistake. I don't think TV execs mind the term "cosy crime" very much either.

One reason writers themselves are wary of the term is perhaps that it can be unwise to consciously pen a "cosy crime" story. If you sit down thinking: "Right. Let's make this really selling. Cups of tea, shrewd yet loveable senior citizens, fireplaces, cute pets, quirky neighbours, dead earls, here we gooo", chances are you'll end up with a story that is either too cloying or too ironic and underestimates its readership/audience. It's better to start with the mindset that you'd like to write the kind of crime story you yourself enjoy – and then, as often as not, it will turn out a comfortable read or watch. 

As for any moral reservations: it's true that crime is not cosy in real life. But nor is it entertaining in any other way. Criticism against "cosy crime" could be levelled against the whole genre of crime fiction, however glum and gory. We're probably ghouls to like it so much, but hey, no real person is harmed during reading or watching, and it keeps us away from the bear pits.

Circling back to the real subject of the post: I've recently watched not one but two British "cosy crime" dramas, which aired in the UK in the summer and have now found their way to Swedish television. I must admit it took me by surprise to find that they were as good as they were, because on paper they do seem a bit too textbook even for me.

What to say of this pitch? In Ludwig, David Mitchell, the comedian known for his "posh and repressed" persona, plays professional puzzlemaker John aka Ludwig. He's forced to impersonate his much more well-adjusted twin brother when the latter goes missing. The brother's a police detective, and John soon finds that his puzzle-solving flair is a help when cracking murder cases, though he's not great at social interaction.

I was suspicious of this setup as it smacked of "diagnosis crime", i.e. the kind of plot where the problem-solvers are better at their job because they have a touch of Aspergers, autism or OCD. It's a bit overdone. Besides, David Mitchell as nerdy and socially handicapped? Not exactly inventive.

Yet somehow it works. The crimes themselves are nice little puzzles, and the continuing mystery of James's disappearance is intriguing. But what really saves the show from being too run-of-the-mill is John's interaction with his brother's family: his sister-in-law, for whom he has always carried a torch, and his nephew, who isn't half as resentful about his uncle's prolonged stay as he could have been. Anna Maxwell Martin as James's wife, who ruthlessly pushes John out of his comfort zone yet is also very fond of him, is a standout. It's a pity Mitchell doesn't have more scope for his comic timing, though: mostly, he plays it straight.

Another obvious pitch would be Mark Gatiss as a closeted owner of a bookshop, who keeps his books in an eccentric order, enjoys tea and ginger biscuits and solves murders as a side-line in post-war Britain. And that's what we get in Bookish. Gatiss's character is even called Gabriel Book (which means his shop is called Book's, with an apostrophe). He has a harmonious lavender marriage with lovely Trottie, his best friend since childhood, and they own a dog named Dog. Bit too cosy, surely?

However, yet again, the obvious set-up works. The atmosphere is reminiscent of Foyle's War, and we get classic whodunnit plots in enjoyable settings, like a film shoot and a luxury hotel (the latter falling apart a bit). The problem-solving team is easy to root for: Polly Walker as Trottie is a delight, and I like ghoulish girl-next-door Nora and the easy-going Inspector Bliss. The Books' young protegé Jack is less interesting (he mostly walks around looking clueless), but I can take that. As for Gatiss, I admit I prefer his icy Mycroft in Sherlock, but he keeps Book (in some ways an eccentric-Brit cliché) from becoming grating with a touch of vulnerability.

It's heartening to see that even shows that look formulaic on the face of it can turn out to be treats if carried off with a bit of effort and some heart. A focus on core relationships is a good way to make a drama more compelling; it's not all about the problem-solving, even in a whodunnit. I'm looking forward to more Ludwig and Bookish – but no annoying communist housemaids next time, please.

Miss Austen should be right up my alley, and yet...

Was autumn always this intense? I have trouble even making it to the gym a modest number of times a month, let alone finding the energy for blogging. But I guess I should be able to write about how there's no pleasing some people, in this case me.

A few weeks ago, I watched Miss Austen, a respectable period drama based on a novel by Gill Hornby. It's well-cast, well-acted, and has the admirable goal of defending Jane Austen's beloved sister Cassandra. She's not much liked by literary historians as she burned most of her sister's letters. However, this drama fights Cassandra's corner. An enduring love for Jane and an eagerness to follow her wishes are shown to be the reasons for the letter-burning, rather than an attempt to sanitise Austen's reputation. I think Austen would have warmly approved.

All the same, isn't it kinda boring?

That's certainly not the actors' fault. Both Keeley Hawes (always a safe bet) and Synnøve Karlsen put in engaging performances as the older and younger Cassandra; Patsy Ferran is a perfect Jane; and Jessica Hynes as my personal favourite, passive-aggressive sister-in-law Mary Austen, is a joy. We follow two timelines. The older Cassandra travels to the deathbed of the brother of the man she was supposed to marry, and takes an interest in his daughter Isabella. Isabella's deceased mother was a firm friend of Jane's, and Cassandra finds her sister's letters in an attempt to keep them from her sister-in-law's clutches. While she reads them, memories resurface. That's where the younger Cassandra and Jane – long-dead in the more recent timeline – come in.

The problem is, not much happens in either timeline. Either Hornby or the TV adapters have attempted to jolly things up a bit with a romance or two, but for once I could have done with less of this particular ingredient. Isabella's interest in the local doctor, who reciprocates her feelings but is too proud to ask again after having been shown the door once (by Isabella's dad), is a tepid affair. The young Cassandra meets an absurdly eligible admirer (wholly fictional, I suspect) while on a family holiday, but as we know that both she and Jane ended up single, it's just irritating to watch her push away her chance at love for no apparent reason. The plot drags quite a bit.

What should bring some zip into the proceedings is Jane's writing, but the flashbacks take place very early in her writing career, so there's not much discussion about her published novels. The exception is Persuasion, which the older Cassandra is reading to Isabella. I loved the flashback, taking place later than the other ones, where we see young(ish) Cassy reading the scene of Louisa's accident for the first time and exclaiming "you killed her!", much to Jane's amusement (Louisa lives). In the later timeline, Isabella is equally on the edge of her seat when the scene is read to her by Cassandra. 

This was great, and I could have done with more in the same vein. That Isabella's impertinent maid Dinah eavesdrops and gets ideas on how to bring her mistress and the doctor together was perhaps a melodramatic twist, but hey, I'm not complaining. We needed a reminder, at this point, as to why we should take any interest in these women at all.

The continuing problem with life and works dramas is that novelists' lives – even the most colourful ones – are rarely as interesting as their books. That doesn't mean they themselves were unhappy. The best thing about Miss Austen (besides Mary) is the sisterly bond between Jane and Cassandra, and I can well believe that they lived very contentedly, as long as they could be together. Whether their life really lends itself to the costume-drama treatment, however, is another matter.

Arguments for and against a Downton Abbey next-generation sequel

When Downton Abbey the series ended, I spent a post arguing for and against the idea of a Downton film (or movie). So it is only fitting that now the final Downton film has aired, I should do something similar, and look at why it could be a good idea – or not – to follow up with a new TV series, this time focusing on the next generation of Downton inhabitants and their friends and relations. Well, whether it is fitting or not, I'm going to do it, and that despite the fact that there is to my knowledge not a hint of a rumour that Fellowes or anyone else has any such project in mind.

For: I can't be the only one who's thought about it? The original Downton characters have made their farewell to the audience, in a very decided manner, in Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale. The trailer stated "It's time to say goodbye", almost as a plea to the fans: "Please, don't force Julian to write any more of these". Another movie would be such an obvious cash grab I don't think even we tolerant Downton fans would stand for it. Enough is enough.

But... what if we jumped forward in time, ten or fifteen years or so, and instead caught up with the Downton children as young adults? We have the bones of a new central cast of characters there: George, Sybil, Caroline, Marigold, Tom Branson's new kid (I forget the name)... These often invisible children haven't been given much personality of their own, so they'd be almost like new characters, but still tied to the "Downtonverse". The settings would still be the castle, the Dower House, the village etc., places we've grown to know and love.

I'm generally tired of World War Two dramas, but I dare say we can't miss out on the nervous tension surrounding the question: will George, the heir, make it back from the war alive? There's even room to explore a new version of the Obscure Heir plot which started off the original series. Some long-lost cousin could be revealed to be the heir should George die, and this time it might not be a good egg like Matthew but a very unsavoury character. Moreover, Downton Abbey surely lends itself to being a centre for evacuated children, or something else war-related, with juicy Foyle's War-esque plot lines as a result.

On the other hand, from the Thirties to the Forties isn't that much of a time jump, which could become a problem if you constantly have to check in on old characters and don't give the new ones the space they need. A bigger time jump to the Fifties could give Fellowes or other writers the opportunity to clear the field by stating that at least some of the old guard has passed away. And we could still have the vague threat of an unsuitable heir apparent after George (who, of course, makes it through the war). Here, the vibe would be more Agatha Christie (without the murders!) than Foyle's War.

One original character who would still be very much alive – and bickering, though with less vitriol than in their young days, with her sister – is Lady Mary who, as foreshadowed in the original series, will take the place of the Dowager Countess. Now that's a decent pitch for a period drama, surely? 

Against: The personality-less depiction of the Downton kids means that we aren't exactly on the edge of our seats waiting to see what happens to them. The biggest argument against a next-gen. sequel though, in my book, is the trickiness of the genre itself. One might think that a next generation sequel risks doing less damage to the original than a sequel taking place directly after another story ends. After all, we would mainly be following new characters and storylines. However, a sequel has to address what happens to the original characters, and as a next-gen. sequel takes place so much later than the original story, whatever is said about the original characters' lives is pretty much set in stone. There's no way of walking back from it later on.

To take an example in a completely different genre: recently, Netflix in Sweden finally aired the animated series Avatar: The Last Airbender, which I hadn't seen before but with which, apparently, a whole generation of Nickelodeon viewers have grown up. I surprised myself with how much I got into it and, after chomping through all three seasons pretty swiftly, couldn't wait to check out the next-generation-and-then-some sequel The Legend of Korra (bizarrely showing on another streaming service). 

New avatar, new characters taking centre stage, the original protagonists either aged purveyors of wisdom on the sidelines or dead: so far, so good. But when the middle-aged children of Aang, the now deceased titular character of the original series, get in a fight we're suddenly told that Aang favourised the son who'd inherited his air-bending gift over the others. This sounds very unlike the fun-loving, warm-hearted character we got to know in Avatar: The Last Airbender, and Aang never gets the chance to set the record straight or make it up with his kids. Because, by this time, he's already dead.

This detail didn't ruin The Legend of Korra for me, but it saddened me a bit, and the Star Wars sequels had similar problems with their original golden trio. Imagine how miffed we would be if we found out, twenty years on, that Molesley never hit the big time with his film scripts or Andy and Daisy ended up fighting every other day. Even if their life would then take a better turn, much time would have been wasted, and there would be no way the already past decades could improve. 

On the other hand, if nothing at all happens to the original Downton crew for twenty years, it gives the impression that they've been in a sort of stasis waiting for a new story to come along. This isn't very  satisfying either, narratively speaking.

At the end of the day, I'm still in favour of a next-generation Downton Abbey TV series. But I acknowledge that it would not be easy to get it right.                      

Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale is strictly for the fans (and that's OK)

It's been an intense week, and I was tempted to give blogging a miss. But I can't very well do that, as it's Downton time!

Yes, last weekend, I in company with two other avid Downton fans had the greatest time at the cinema watching Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale. We weren't alone, either: the cinema was more packed than I've seen it in a long while, and the audience was in a positive mood. The scene where Mrs Patmore declared to Daisy that she was "the daughter I never had" was especially popular, drawing an "aaah" from some audience members. There were snivels and giggles at appropriate moments. All in all, if you're a Downton enthusiast, it's very hard not to enjoy this last hurrah. If you're not, you'd most likely be bored to tears.

I had first planned to follow up on my predictions in my usual manner, but there is little point as absolutely none of them came true. Well, they addressed the Henry question, explaining his no-show with divorce rather than death, but that's about it. 

Mary's old beaux appearing? No such luck. Edith's Marigold secret playing a role? Nope – I'm not sure we even got to see Marigold. Peter Coyle making an appearance? Not even close (though that surely would have been better than the Molesley storyline we got). The Bateses' future? Not much drama there: they both decamped to the Dower House with Lord and Lady Grantham, but the thought that they could quit the servant life never even occurred to them. The butler question? Not a question, it seems: what with Andy staying on at Downton as butler and Daisy as cook, I'm wondering who's actually taking care of Mr Mason's farm. Thomas plotting? Chance would be a fine thing.

I don't think I've ever been as consistently wrong in my predictions before, but in my defence, it's not as if there was much going on instead of my suggested plot lines. The Grand Finale wasn't big on plot, and what little conflict there was had to come from external sources (a quite foxy American swindler, and the absent Henry who by this time counts as an external source). Instead, the film's aim was clearly to give the fans a last opportunity to hang out with (as Disney DVD sequel trailers used to put it) "all your favourite characters". 

This aim was fulfilled. We could leave Downton Abbey with the comfortable feeling that everything will be all right, and everyone gets on quite well really, even Mary and Edith. No need to think too hard about what the outbreak of World War Two (still years away at the end of the film) will mean for young George.

But is the film any good, I hear you wonder? Is it as good as the series? Is it the best of the films, or the worst? I did ponder these questions while watching it, but found them unexpectedly hard to answer. I think I have to say, The Grand Finale is not as good as the series, and probably sits in the middle script- and plot-wise when it comes to the films: better than the Upstairs, Downstairs rip-off that is the first movie but less snappy and pacy than the second. However, of all the proposed endings of Downton Abbey that we've been offered, this is by far the most satisfying, and that is quite a feat. For that reason, I suspect The Grand Finale will have a special place in fans' hearts for the years to come, and the question of how good it is as a film will be considered less important. Only, if you've never watched Downton, for pity's sake don't start with this.

Of course I'm thrilled for Thomas, even though he's so de-fanged at this point everyone seems to have forgotten he was once a villain. His end vignette, complete with the Hollywood sign in the background framing his still harmonious romance with the glamorous Guy Dexter, is all an often sorely tried Thomas apologist could wish for (though he had more chemistry with the nefarious Duke in the very first episode, but never mind). All's well that ends well for my Tommy, even if his entertainingly bitchy lines are a thing of the past.                     

The Gilded Age season three: prediction follow-up

Rejoice, costume-drama lovers – we made The Gilded Age happen! At the start, there wasn't as much buzz about the series as one would have thought, seeing that it's created by Julian "Downton" Fellowes. But now it seems to have gathered momentum and a sizeable fanbase, and I'm guessing it's in no small part thanks to a pacy and strong third season.

By now, it's become clearer what the series is, and what it isn't. It won't deliver exactly the same kind of drama as Downton did (I'll go more into that in a bit), but for what it is – a fun romp with the occasional scene that goes a little deeper, set in a glamorous time and with largely likeable characters – it's very good, and I suspect the best costume drama we will get in quite some time.

On to the follow-up to my predictions for this season. I'll try not to be too insanely spoilery, but I do want to gloat as I got more things right than I usually do in my prediction posts.

Gladys will marry the Duke – but not divorce yet YES All right, this one wasn't a hard one to call (though I also guessed what the trailer's divorce talk was really about, and that I am smug about). It was pretty clear from the trailer and on-set footage that there was going to be a wedding, and Gladys was the obvious pick for the bride part. Less predictably, her union with the fortune-hunting Duke hasn't turned out too terribly this far. The Duke of Buckingham aka Hector seems quite a nice chap, if a little prone to be pushed around by the women in his life. Then again, he's not the only man in The Gilded Age to be hen-pecked.

I really liked this turn of events. Not only because it was unexpected, but because it shows that Fellowes and his co-writer Sonja Warfield (who seems to be a strong addition to the team, judging by the episodes she's credited as co-writing) haven't set out to copy out well-known real-life dramas from the Gilded Age and simply foist them on their fictional characters. The Russells may be inspired by the Vanderbilts, but that doesn't mean Gladys is destined to be unhappy with her Duke, as little as it means that her parents are destined to divorce. It's nice to know that there isn't a historical cheat sheet which will give away what'll happen in the series – it makes it far more interesting.       

Agnes and Bertha will both try to stop Larrian (maybe even together) NO, BUT... Agnes and Bertha were shown to be in agreement once this season, but only about a fairly minor plot point. As far as Larrian is concerned, there's as little communication between the two matriarchs as ever. We did get to see, though, that Agnes was not thrilled about the prospect of welcoming Larry as her nephew-in-law, and was eager to encourage any doubts on Marian's side.

Was there ever as wet a blanket as Marian, I wonder? Her paramour isn't exactly the most exciting character either, though he does at least prove to be a capable business man. It is a shame that the central romance  of the series doesn't generate more heat, but there it is. Many great stories have had somewhat underwhelming hero-heroine romances. At least the concept of romance isn't spurned, and for this one should be grateful. Only, shockingly, I find myself missing bitchy Lady Mary. 

Peggy's new love interest's parents (probably the dad) will make trouble YES, BUT... I was right, except it was the prospective mother-in-law who had objections to Peggy, not Dr Kirkland's dad, who was all in favour of the match, though not very forcefully. The Kirkland men continue the Gilded Age trend of being rather too easily manipulated by their womenfolk.  

As for Peggy, she is a little too perfect, but she does have more bounce and more chemistry with her chosen man than Marian does. And the whole idea of including a "black elite" plot line in the series is genius. It's interesting in itself to learn more about the affluent black upper-middle class in late 19th-century New York, and it saves the series from going down the "colour-blind casting" route, of which I'm not a fan (I will save you the rant for now, but I'm not just thinking of the phenomenon from my pale-face perspective, honest). Peggy could do with a relatable flaw or two, but her part of the story is still engaging.    

The butler alliance will be sealed by events (I hope) NOT REALLY, NO I mean, Church and Bannister are friendly enough to each other now. But they're not united in any cause, and though the Van Rhijns/Brookes and Russells are starting to interact a little more, their servants hardly mix at all this season.

Here's where one of the big differences to Downton comes in. It has become clear by now that The Gilded Age isn't really an "upstairs-downstairs" drama. In the original Upstairs, Downstairs, the plot lines were fairly evenly distributed between the Bellamys and the servants, though with a slight advantage for the servants – even events upstairs were largely viewed from their point of view. In Downton Abbey, there was still an even distribution of plot lines, and a slightly mellower approach to servant-master relationships which angered many an armchair socialist (though it's not as if the Bellamys were bad employers, or the Crawleys unfailingly good ones). 

In The Gilded Age, on the other hand, the focus is squarely on the upstairs families. The servants are nice and all, and get more screen time than in, say, The Forsyte Saga, but they don't get many juicy plot lines or for that matter much character development. They're pretty much stuck the way they were in season one. I think Fellowes may have had more plans for the servant side of things at the start, but gave up when all the different characters and plots became too much to juggle.        

Oscar will try to make money YES It's not all plain sailing for doe-eyed Oscar, but at least he's a surprisingly dab hand at business. The plan he has lined up for next season could prove to be interesting.

In the any other business category, one can note that this was yet another strong season for Aunt Ada (though I could have done without the temperance plot), but not the strongest for my favourite George Russell. He did eventually stand up to Bertha, but only after it could have done any good for Gladys or anyone else. His continuing coldness towards Bertha just seems mulish at this point. Plus his sacking of Clay was completely uncalled-for, even if Clay turned out to be a worm later on. J. P. Morgan was quite fun, though.      

They don't do entertaining tripe like First Knight anymore

Yesterday would have been the perfect day for blogging. I was stuck at home anyway, waiting for delayed luggage (which still hasn't arrived, by the way). In spite of a number of possible blog subjects, however, I just thought "nah". Why is summer blogging so difficult? Is it the weather? Post-travel inability to settle? Sheer laziness?

Anyway, a less complex subject for a blog post than First Knight, which for some reason (I'm not complaining) has made it to Netflix, would be hard to find. This schmaltzy Arthurian romance was filmed in the 90s, and it shows. I was surprised at how much it triggered my nostalgia. Back in the day, the younger me wasn't much taken with First Knight. I did not see the appeal of Richard Gere as the apparently irresistible Lancelot, and the depiction of Camelot wasn't close enough to how I imagined it (based on reliable sources such as Howard Pyle and the Prince Valiant comic). But now, a number of "gritty" reimaginings of the King Arthur legend later, this film feels endearingly straightforward.

The film centres on the famous love triangle between King Arthur, Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot (I've always felt torn about this part of the lore as Pyle, maybe mindful of his young readers, insisted that Guinevere and Lancelot were "just good friends"). Gere is Lancelot, Julia Ormond Guinevere – more beautiful than envious younger me gave her credit for – and an attractively regal mature Sean Connery is King Arthur. We also have Ben Cross, usually cast as an intensely brooding hero, as the intensely brooding villain Malagant (as far as I know a character made up for the occasion – what's wrong with Mordred, I'd like to know?). Not badly cast, in other words. John Gielgud, never too haughty when it came to his roles, shows up in a bit part.

The challenge anyone who wants to tackle the Arthur-Guinevere-Lancelot triangle faces is that they're all good guys, but I can see that that's part of the story's appeal. First Knight solves the problem by not making Guinevere and Lancelot too duplicitious. They want to do right by Arthur, and only indulge in one bout of passionate kissing (that's when Arthur walks in). It's all very airbrushed, but I'm fine with that. It's in keeping with the silly bit of entertainment this film is.

For it is silly, I'll not deny it. In a battle sequence, Lancelot idiotically removes his helmet to let his locks fly free. Earlier, Guinevere marvels at his ability to channel rainwater in leaves, as if it were a consummate skill. The secondary characters have no function at all except to admire Lancelot's prowess and Arthur's wisdom or (if it's the villain's sidekick) sneer. The film has "formulaic, vaguely historical Nineties adventure/romance" written all over it, and I enjoyed it very much.

So what do I mean by my title? Surely generic adventure flicks are churned out all the time? Well, maybe, but it's not so easy to find entertaining hogwash of this kind, where some effort has been put into making the formula work, nowadays. Take the romance. I was partly ashamed of my prissy "whoa, there" reaction when Lancelot kisses Guinevere, whom he's just met, out of nowhere and claims "I know when a woman wants me". You wouldn't get a scene like that in a 2020s film, which is perhaps no great loss in itself, but a sign of how restricted the parameters of romance have become. When we say that something has "aged badly", what we often mean is that our own age has become more intolerant. Lads should not try this kind of behaviour at home, but fictional romances can't be wholesome all the time – it kills all the fun.

Then there's the Arthurian legend part. For the last couple of decades, when someone tries their hand at the King Arthur story, it's mostly in order to make it more "realistic" and "historical". But this, I would argue, is not what we want from a King Arthur story. We want the round table, Excalibur, Merlin, a brave Lancelot, a witty Gawain, the Lady of the Lake, at least one wicked sorceress, the whole caboodle. Of course that's not in any way a "true story", but the trueness isn't the appeal here, as little as it is in the Robin Hood myth. I've got my problems even with the sanitised merry folk hero Robin Hood, and would stomach him even less well were he to lean more into actual highwayman/robber behaviour.

First Knight does't tick all the Arthurian boxes – there's no Merlin, for example. But it doesn't try to turn Arthur into some boring Roman centurion or local chieftain, and for that I at least am grateful.

Predictions for season three of The Gilded Age (with very little to go on)

Right. I said I would do The Gilded Age predictions, didn't I? With season three coming next week, it's high time. 

The season trailer didn't exactly wow me, but I must confess there are some clues in it regarding what's to come (unlike in the trailer for the upcoming Downton movie, which is just an elegant nothing – not that I'm bitter). The trick will be to avoid all-to-obvious predictions. I mean, of course Larrian (I'm guessing that's what the Larry + Marian ship is called) will get well under way, and of course there will be friction between Aunt Agnes and Aunt Ada, who has the money now. That much is given. But what else could possibly happen?

Gladys will marry the Duke – but not divorce yet The marriage is a pretty safe bet; we see glimpses of a marriage in the trailer, and there's no way Larry and Marian will get that far in just one season. So it has to be Gladys, and unless her dad finally takes a stand against his wife and objects at the last minute, this means she's stuck with the Duke of Buckingham. Gladys's situation being based on that of Consuelo Vanderbilt, who eventually divorced the Duke of Marlborough, one could assume that Gladys is the woman whose divorce is talked about in hushed tones in the trailer. Generally, though, plot lines in The Gilded Age don't move that fast. Surely, her marriage has to be milked for juicy drama before it is discarded.

Who is divorcing, then? Blessed if I know. Mrs Fane, whose main function in the series seems to be to introduce Marian to a wider society than she'd encounter if Aunt Agnes had her way, is bringing the news. Could she be the one?

Agnes and Bertha will both try to stop Larrian (maybe even together) Fellowes has reportedly realised that it would be a good idea to bring his queen bees together in one scene. From the quote I heard, though, it didn't sound as if they'd be actually interacting much, but one can always hope. As I've said before, these characters are something of a disappointment to me – Agnes doesn't really hit the Dowager Countess spot she's supposed to, and Bertha is pretty much unbearable at this point. Some reluctant plotting over a common cause would do them a world of good drama-wise.

That Agnes will be opposed to the Larry-Marian romance is self-evident. Bertha's view is harder to guess, as she's keen to be allied to "old money" (or lack of money), and the Van Rhijns are the US counterpart to nobility. However, they're also (with the exception of Ada) skint. Bertha may well want something better for Larry, and she's been known to meddle in his love life before.

Peggy's new love interest's parents (probably the dad) will make trouble Peggy's shown looking blissful with a new man, a Dr Kirkland, who seems very respectable. But it can't all be peaches and cream, surely? Is there some significance to the fact that we already know who will be playing Kirkland's father? My guess is that Kirkland Sr., and/or possibly his wife, will object to Peggy for some reason, most likely her troubled past. 

Peggy may also have to face more virulent forms of racism than she has before in New York (not from the Kirklands, though, who are also black affluent middle-class). Any other showrunner would have included a swiwel-eyed racist bogey-man in Peggy's storyline by now, and I admire Fellowes for resisting the low-hanging fruit. But c'mon, nearly encountering a Southern lynch mob can't be it. Peggy needs dragons to slay.

The butler alliance will be sealed by events (I hope) Mercifully, butlers Bannister and Church buried the hatchet in the previous season. Now, they need a storyline which will bring them together, and unlike Agnes and Bertha's potential alliance their partnership should be for a good cause. Maybe they will join forces to help Jack the footman? I thought I spotted him looking well-dressed and giddy in the trailer. Most likely, someone will try to rip him off in order to get their hands on his invention, and he will need trusty servant back-up. 

Not that I've worked out why Church would get involved, but hey. I want the butlers to get on so badly I almost ship them.

Oscar will try to make money Oscar will feel keenly that he's let his mother down, and he'll try to make up for it in some way, possibly by trying to get back some of the money he lost. I'd rather have a romance plot involving Oscar, to be honest, or another marriage-as-window-dressing scheme. Let's face it, though: he'll never meet anyone better than John Adams, the most understanding ex-boyfriend ever.

The final Wolf Hall

There must be an end to milking Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall trilogy for blog posts. Even if I finally actually read The Mirror and the Light, instead of just listening to it as an audiobook, I can't possibly have more to say about Mantel's version of Thomas Cromwell after having blogged about Wolf Hall the novel – twice; Bring Up the Bodies – twice; the first series of the TV adaptation of the trilogy; the aforementioned audiobook version of The Mirror and the Light and now, finally, the second series of the TV adaptation. I guess it goes to show that in spite of my gripes – and I've had plenty – I do find this story fascinating.

The second series of Wolf Hall leaves me with two questions I can't quite answer. One, can I recommend this series or not? And two, why don't I like this version of Thomas Cromwell more?

To start with question one, Wolf Hall the TV series has a sharp script, is often mesmerising and contains stellar acting, especially from Mark Rylance as Cromwell and Damian Lewis as Henry VIII but also from just about everyone else. This time around I was especially taken with Harry Melling's Wriothesley. In the novels, Wriothesley was so fox-like his treachery seemed like a foregone conclusion, especially as Cromwell and co. kept jokingly referring to him as "Call Me Risley" or just "Call Me", even to his face. (My theory is that his name is actually pronounced Risley, and he simply tried to convey it in a polite manner.) Melling's Wriothesley, by contrast, suffers pure agony over his own betrayal. That's just one example of the acting quality on offer. I was properly hooked during both the first and last episode of the series, and even got a bit teary as Cromwell in his final speech apologised to his "master", meaning not Henry, as the crowd thought, but the late Cardinal Wolsey.

However, there were other times when the show's sedate pace got me restless. One Swedish journalist wondered, entertainingly, why she had spent twelve hours of her life (counting both series and all twelve episodes of Wolf Hall) watching Cromwell walking from one room to another between dialogues and thoughtful musings. "What's so magnetic about this?" she asked, and I know what she means. I felt the magnetism too, often enough – but not all the time. Sometimes, I just felt impatient with the high-brow-ness of it all. I have principal objections to TV drama that gives itself airs, and this series does. It reminds me most of all of a gigantic filmed play (though it doesn't come off quite as dusty as filmed plays tend to do).

In the end, though, I think I have to recommend the series, with reservations. It does tell an intriguing story with the help of first-class actors. What it doesn't manage to do, even with the help of Rylance's expressive face, is help me understand what Cromwell – the historical or the fictional version – is all about.   

Which leads me to question number two. Why don't I like Mantel's Cromwell more? The answer appears simple enough on the surface: because he's not a charismatic villain in this story. How can a Cromwell who always claims to do the right thing, and often believes it too, hope to compare in my villain-loving eyes to the charms of Danny Webb's weaselly courtier, or James Frain's Catholic-hating powerbroker? It's true that the smugness of Rylance's Cromwell riles me. Smugness is usually the fault of the other guys – the self-righteous ones, the heroes. A great villain can get away with anything, but you have to be a truly A-grade villain (better than Cromwell, certainly) to get away with self-righteousness.

But I think it goes deeper than that. After all three books and two series of television, I'm still not sure I know what makes Mantel's Cromwell tick. Mantel makes much of his devotion to Wolsey, but his actions don't always bear this supposed loyalty out. Yes, he punishes the Cardinal's lesser enemies, but he becomes quite pally with Suffolk, who filched some of Wolsey's land, and keeps serving Henry, who caused Wolsey's fall in the first place. There's even a scene in The Mirror and the Light where Cromwell is suddenly stricken with doubt as to whether he let his Cardinal down at the end. Whoa, buddy. Firstly, you should know whether you were false or not. Secondly, in this version of events, you killed people for being nasty to your beloved Cardinal. If there was any kind of doubt in your mind as to your own actions towards Wolsey, you should maybe have shown more generosity towards others.   

It doesn't help that I feel a certain disconnect between Mantel's Cromwell and the historical Cromwell who, I can't help suspecting, was probably a lot more straightforward. Did the real Cromwell ever give a monkey's about Wolsey? I'm not entirely convinced. 

Maybe, though, this ambiguousness is actually partly why the Wolf Hall trilogy fascinates me. On two levels, it's about achieving great things, but not what you set out to do. Cromwell (as Mantel describes him) wants to be a good servant to Wolsey and to facilitate religious reform; he achieves neither. Mantel, presumably, wanted to get under Thomas Cromwell's skin, but doesn't quite get there. However, it can be gripping to see them try.

Things to look forward to (or at least check out) in 2025

In many ways, cultural-consumption-wise, 2025 promises to be the same procedure as last year. That is, there will be continuations of series and franchises I enjoy, but I've yet to see something new slated for 2025 where I think "wow, I've got to watch this". As for books, I'm as likely to make a discovery in my own bookshelves as among the latest book arrivals (though I wouldn't mind a new Sarah Waters novel, for instance). 

YouTube nerds often talk about their "latest obsession". It's been a while since I've had a new obsession, and I'm not a hundred per cent sure I want one. If I find one – whether in the world of TV, film or books – it will probably be by chance rather than through purposeful searching. The items on this list, however, I will at least check out and probably enjoy.

Downton Abbey 3:  No need to go into detail: I've already blogged about the upcoming Downton film at some length. Am I surprised that Downton is coming back a third time at the cinema? Yep. Would I rather have seen a new story as compelling as Downton, which already has a satisfying ending, unfold? Maybe. Am I complaining? No, siree, as long as they don't mess up Thomas's love life. According to IMDB, Dominic West is returning as Guy Dexter, so it looks hopeful.

The Gilded Age season three: As far as I know, The Gilded Age will return next year, though I've yet to see a trailer for it. When it's out, it will be time for me to make the usual hit-and-miss predictions. As of now, I've no idea where this series might be heading, other than that a romance between Marian and Larry is definitely on the cards. Let's hope that they both acquire a little more personality in the process. Also, I want more servant plotlines.

Andor OK. So. I know that Andor is good. I'm grateful to it for adding a little cred to the Star Wars brand at a time when fans are disgruntled with it and apt to blame Disney for absolutely everything (though Disney seldom gets any credit when something Star Wars-related that the fans do like is released). And of course I'll watch it and admire the deft dialogue and storytelling, as well as the complex characters. 

To be frank, though, I'm not exactly excited for it. I find the premise that it's all right for the rebels to behave like swine if it's for the greater good of toppling the Evil Empire hard to swallow. Meanwhile, we have Skeleton Crew, which is much more light-hearted fare but which I confess is more my cup of tea (so far) than the somewhat disturbing politics of Andor. The galaxy far, far away is not yet on its last legs – I hope.

The Fantastic Four: First Steps and Thunderbolts* (yes, the asterisk is part of the title): Talking about struggling franchises, Marvel has had some tough years, but found favour with its fanbase this year with Deadpool and Wolverine. After an epic amount of homework – the X-men films and the previous two Deadpool films – I also watched it and really liked it. What's more, I've heard novices that have not done any homework to speak of praise it, which is, as Palps would say, a surprise to be sure but a welcome one. I may yet blog about how the film got away with a multiverse story where other films have failed (the answer is, basically: nothing clever, just two very charismatic leads).

What about this year, then? The upcoming TV projects seem all right, but not wildly thrilling. I had some hopes for the animated Spider-Man series, but judging from the trailer it seems awfully down with the kids (or rather teenagers). On the film front, Thunderbolts* seems promising, as the Thunderbolts team contains some interesting and/or funny antiheroes from previous films. But Fantastic Four is the studio's biggest swing, as it will introduce us comic-book ignoramuses to a new quartet of heroes in a completely new setting.

Now, of course I know that in the comic world, the Fantastic Four have been around since the year dot. There have been other film adaptations of their adventures as well, so they're not new from that perspective. But they're new in the MCU, and aren't tied to the previous complicated web of MCU stories. We are, in a sense, entering a new Enchanted Forest (I'm not one to forgo a Once Upon A Time reference). let's just hope it is enchanted. The casting is great: I'm particularly pleased to see that Joseph Quinn will be joining the MCU team. Others know him from Stranger Things (which I haven't seen); I know him as the actor who made the viewer sympathise with Arthur Havisham and Catherine the Great's useless son.

The Night Manager seasons two and three: I was somewhat sarcastic about the original The Night Manager series and, predictably enough, I think Tom Hiddleston would be better employed playing brainy, possibly redeemable villains rather than a strong, silent bore like Jonathan Pine. All the same, I'm curious. Where can the story possibly go after the first season? We didn't actually see Richard Roper get killed: will he escape his captors and return, out for blood? Will there be justice for Corky?

Anticipation list follow-up: expectations met, mostly

Back in January, I did one of my almost-yearly "things to look forward to" posts (restricted to the area of pop-cultural consumption). As it's sadly a bit too early to start the 2025 lists, but I feel in the mood for a list post, what if I followed up on the projects I thought sounded at least vaguely promising? I mean, I know I've already blogged about some of them, but as a summing-up? No, I'm not dodging an in-depth analysis of the problems of making the multiverse work (in film/TV) at all...

I'll change the order around a bit, though; I'll start with the items I haven't discussed in blog posts yet and save the item that was the biggest disappointment to last.

Moonflower Murders: Thankfully, Swedish Television didn't let me down. They both aired the latest adaptation of an Anthony Horowitz crime novel and made it available on their streaming service, and I was well pleased with it. It had the same virtues as Magpie Murders: Lesley Manville's Sue Ryeland and Tim McMullan's Atticus Pünd make for a likeable sleuthing duo with their meetings on the border between fiction and reality (there's a multiversal incursion for you), and the way some of the actors played two roles in parallel plot threads was cleverly done. As with Magpie Murders, I felt less cheated by the way the two interlocking crime mysteries were laid out than when I read the novel. Moonflower Murders the novel ended with a firm goodbye to this particular fictional universe, but the TV adaptation (also done by Horowitz) leaves the door a little more open for a sequel. I would not say no.

The Bad Batch season three: Is it just me, or have the animated projects from the Star Wars and Marvel franchises been consistently great of late, while the live-action projects are a bit more hit and miss? It may very well be just me with my soft spot for animation. Be that as it may, this Clone Wars spin-off, which perhaps didn't seem that promising on paper, outdid expectations with an engaging, well-knit overarching story about a band of brothers and a sister trying to carve out an existence during the Imperial era of the Star Wars galaxy. Crosshair remained my favourite throughout, but as he kept himself on the path of redemption he hesitantly started on previous season, new entertaining if unsubtle villains were introduced. Doctor Hemlock (I warned you!) with his pleasing design, satisfactorily high level of competence and purring voice (American-accented, which makes a nice change in this context as Star Wars baddies are so often played by Brits) caused my villain-loving heart to flutter, and disgraced Vice Admiral Rampart was a hoot.

Inside Out 2: Yeah, as I've previously mentioned, this was pretty darn good. Even though I prefer the original, which is more rewatchable, the way Anxiety is portrayed in this film is almost too relatable. Roll on Inside Out 3 – next time, I want to see Riley fall in love.

Belgravia: The Next Chapter: OK, I can't pretend it wasn't a let-down that Julian Fellowes didn't pen this supposed sequel to Belgravia, which at the end of the day had very little to do with the original. I had other reservations as well, especially at the start of the series, but taken all in all it was a solid period drama that felt a little closer to being set in a recognisable past than many costume dramas of late (which are often knowingly anachronistic). It particularly seemed to find its stride in the final episode. Poor Oliver Trenchard was hard done by, though.

Doctor Who series fourteen/season one: As you may already be aware, this was a big let-down for me. When will I stop hoping for Doctor Who to return to its former glory? It's hard to let go of hope when the very same duo that were show-runners back in those glory days are still running and/or writing for the series. But by now, Doctor Who has become so heavily politicised that it has a harder time getting away with things that weren't such a big deal in the olden days. 

When the main thrust of Doctor Who stories was about something bigger (love, friendship, the wonders of the universe, the problems of near immortality, the strengths and weaknesses of mankind) or something smaller (oooh, look, Daleks and Cybermen are fighting!) than politics, I could shrug off the odd bout of clumsy messaging. Now, it seems, clumsy messaging is practically all the show does. I had hopes that the Steven Moffat-scripted Christmas special would be a suitably light-hearted palate cleanser, but the sneak peek we've been given does not look promising. "Evil must logo"? Really? Also, the main villain being a Big Bad Arms Manufacturer isn't only clichéd, it's not quite as obvious a choice of common enemy as it might once have been. Yes, of course there are all sorts of ethical implications when a company's products are expressly made to maim and kill people. But at the end of the day, what are we supposed to defend ourselves with if we are attacked? Bananas?

I've not yet reached the point where I will stop watching Doctor Who, and most likely I never will. But for now, it's no longer my favourite sci-fi franchise. For all its faults, Star Wars has eclipsed it. It gave me the most memorable Doctor to watch this year.

Possible plot lines for the third Downton film (some more possible than others)

There's to be another Downton film/movie? What is this, the new Terminator franchise? Julian Fellowes has already written a convincing ending to the saga of the Crawley family and its servants – three times. Downton Abbey could have ended after the TV series finale, or the first film, or the second film. I'm not sure how Fellowes was persuaded to return to the world of Downton once more, but I bet the producers are happy.

And of course, as an avid fan, I'm not exactly complaining either; I'm always up for another spot of Downton. However, with so many plot lines already tied up in tidy bows, it will be a challenge for Fellowes to find new ways of bringing the story forward (ideally without ruining the happy endings already engineered in previous Downton content). But not impossible. Here are some storylines I wouldn't mind seeing in a new Downton movie.

Mary's marriage and old beaux: Mary's love life keeps being affected by out-of-universe events. When Dan Stevens opted out, Fellowes had to kill off Matthew Crawley, the love of her life. Now, her second marriage to Henry Talbot is endangered because of the commitments of much-sought-after Matthew Goode, who plays him. Goode's other acting projects meant that he was entirely absent from Downton movie number two, which meant that in-universe, the once loving couple appeared to be estranged (and Henry racing again? Why?). It was the one major disappointment with the second film, and now Fellowes has a chance to fix it.

How, though? Supposing Goode can't or won't appear in this film either, what then? We simply can't have another film with Mary sighing over an absent husband. If Henry Talbot isn't present, he must be got rid of – either through divorce or death.

While it would be rotten luck for poor Mary to lose two husbands to violent death, it would be less messy plot-wise than divorce. Whatever grim alternative Fellowes chooses, I hope the third film is set some years after the event, so that Mary is free to form a new attachment – or rediscover an old one. Surely this is the ideal opportunity to make Lady Mary and Charles Blake (do they have a ship name? Chary? Pig Rescuers?) happen?

Of course, the least harrowing thing for Mary would be if her second marriage did not have to end. If Goode can be coaxed back into the fold, the plot could instead be about him and Mary finding their way back to happiness. I wouldn't mind if an old beau of Mary's – Blake or, why not, Sir Richard Carlisle – gave Talbot a good talking to and pointed out just how much he has to lose by neglecting his wife.

Edith's Marigold secret: Fellowes has been wary of connecting the film plots to the series plots too much in the previous films, but maybe this time he'll consider us die-hard fans. The fact that Marigold is Edith's natural daughter and not just adopted is a secret just waiting to be discovered by a nosy journalist or some other credible threat. A lot of drama could be elicited by the family's and servants' combined efforts to shut the snoop up. I wouldn't mind seeing Edith showing some of her sister's steel and face the challenge bravely instead of just whining.

Peter Coyle's belated appearance: Remember Peter Coyle, Miss Baxter's old flame who persuaded her to steal for him? What if we could finally get to meet this fatal charmer? He would reappear in Miss Baxter's life, filling Molesley with self-doubt by being handsome and charismatic. Once the cad is ousted, however, Molesley will learn that Miss Baxter was never once tempted to return to Coyle and thinks Molesley is worth a hundred of him. That would be moving to see, though I doubt Molesley would be allowed to be caught up in a dramatic storyline rather than a comic one; Kevin Doyle is too good a comedian for Fellowes not to utilise him for high jinks.

The Bateses' future: Yes, you may well wonder: I'm actually, voluntarily, asking for another plot focusing on Mr and Mrs Bates. Even I have been a little embarrassed by the way the admittedly annoying Bates has been shoved into the background in the two films. Perhaps it's time for the couple to face a more grounded problem than various murder charges? 

Back in series two of Downton Abbey, Bates wanted to open a small hotel together with Anna, and she seemed all in favour of the idea. The way things turned out, though, they're still pretty much stuck at Downton. What if Bates finally wanted to move on, but Anna felt guilty for "abandoning" Mary? Mary could resolve the matter in the end by insisting that Anna go and live her own life, but it would make for some drama.

The Butler question: Look, Andy can't possibly become the household's new butler and handle Mr Mason's old farm. Being a farmer, even with an energetic spouse, is decidedly not a part-time job. The Crawleys need to find a new butler, and fast. This could be the "comic relief" part of the film, maybe involving Denker and Spratt (though I'm not sure how I would explain why Denker is still around). And if Mr Carson finally gets to do something right or say something wise in the course of this story unfolding, then so much the better.

Thomas plotting (for the greater good): Shock confession: I wouldn't have minded if Thomas were not in the film. He got his happy ending in Downton Abbey: A New Era, and I really don't want Fellowes to mess it up. But Robert James-Collier is slated to return, so here's how you could use him: Thomas is visiting his old servant friends (kind of) and gets involved in one of the ongoing storylines, such as Peter Coyle's return or the Marigold conundrum. The servants persuade him to help by doing what he (arguably) does best: scheming. Once Coyle or the Marigold snooper has been foiled, partly by Thomas's plans, he can go back to Guy Dexter (I don't think they'll be able to bag Dominic West for another Downton performance, so Guy will have to wait off-screen). That would work, right?

In all probability, none of these possible plots will make an appearance in the third film, except perhaps the fixing of Mary's marital problems. I haven't even found a way to incorporate Uncle Harold (who we know will return) into any of the storylines. But a girl can dream.         

Scenes from a marriage, 1870

So, Belgravia: The Next Chapter turned out to be... not quite what I hoped for. Firstly, it wasn't written by Julian Fellowes. I was surprised by how much I ended up minding this. After all, Fellowes isn't the kind of a-zinger-a-minute script writer where you actively think: "Wow, this is so good". That other costume drama supremo, Andrew Davies, farmed out the script-writing of Mr Selfridge and Sanditon to no ill effect; there's clearly plenty of talented telly writers out there. What Fellowes has, though, is a knack of making his characters interesting and/or likeable. That's a talent this series would have benefited from.

Another disappointment was that the series didn't follow the adventures of the offspring of the main couple from the first Belgravia series, Charles Pope/Bellasis and Lady Maria Grey, which would have made it a proper "next generation" sequel. Instead, the connection to the original Belgravia is rather tenuous. Frederick, aka Lord Trenchard, is the bastard child that side character Oliver Trenchard from the first series decided to acknowledge as his own. We see the grown-up Frederick meet and marry the romantically minded Clara. However, he's so troubled by his upbringing and his "father's" disdain that he has a hard time accepting Clara's love, and much marital strife ensues.

I was sorry that Oliver Trenchard, one of the few links to the original series, was portrayed in such a bad light. Accepting his unfaithful wife's child was part of his redemption arc in the first Belgravia, and it detracts from his characterisation there to see him turn against Frederick from the moment he surprisingly gets a son of his own. For all that, I did manage to get into Belgravia: The Next Chapter after a bumpy start. But for seven of its eight episodes, the supposed connection to the first Belgravia was a hindrance rather than a help.

The series is in fact a competently crafted and well-acted (especially from the secondary characters) marital drama with a couple of amusing side intrigues. Some problems remain, though, the major one being that the two protagonists just aren't very engaging. Now, don't get me wrong, it's quite convincing that a naïve, impulsive girl and an emotionally stunted man would experience these kinds of romantic problems in 1870s Belgravia (perhaps even in modern Belgravia). But there's only so much of Frederick sitting around looking miserable in a repressed way, or Clara confiding in a society doctor who clearly has the hots for her, that this viewer can take.

The other problem, as I've hinted, is the branding. From a series called Belgravia: The Next Chapter, it's not unreasonable to expect the same kind of comfort viewing as from its parent series. For most of its run time, though, this drama isn't particularly comforting. I started thinking that I would have liked it more if it hadn't had any connection to Belgravia  whatsoever, and if I'd known roughly what kind of story I could expect from the start.

But – and here's the rub – episode eight was really strong, and tied back to the events of Belgravia in a way I would have been sorry to miss. Finally, after seven episodes of distraught flailing, the characters managed to get their act together in a supremely satisfying way.  

Also, the secondary characters add spice to the story throughout. I wasn't always convinced by Elaine Cassidy's Katherine in The Paradise – though she could act up a storm all right, especially in the second series, she just wasn't the spoilt heiress type  – but she absolutely slays as the loyal lady in waiting Davison. Sophie Winkleman and Miles Jupp manage to wring every drop of pathos they can out of the ducal couple with an epileptic heir (I know this is the late 19th century, but sometimes the characters in this series seem to know less about epilepsy than Marco Polo). There's a fun French marquise who's obviously up to no good and spinning intrigues seemingly just for the heck of it. Clara's envious sister has a solid character arc, and Frederick's brother James is such a pretty parson in distress you wonder how any thug could have the heart to blackmail him, especially when there are more worthwhile things they could be doing.

So in the end I was quite torn about this drama. I do think it would have benefited either from being shorter, or from giving more time to the side plots. What is the shared history (clearly not of the romantic kind) of Davison and the gimlet-eyed servant Fletcher? Why does the marquise meddle in Frederick's and Clara's marriage, something she does not have to do to further her financial goals? I wouldn't have minded spending more time with these characters and less with silly Clara and stuffed shirt Frederick.

All in all, though, the ending was strong enough to cancel out many of my gripes, and it was nice to see John Bellasis getting just a bit of a redemption (though not too much). It's just too bad it had to be at the expense of Oliver's. 

The Gilded Age season two: prediction follow-up

Just to be clear, the only reason I didn't include The Gilded Age season three in things to look forward to in 2024 is that I can't imagine it'll air that early. From what I know, the third season hasn't even been shot yet. When it comes, I will watch it avidly, as I still very much enjoy this series, even though I have notes.

But first of all it's time to follow up my predictions for season two. This could potentially be a short post as the large majority of my predictions were, simply put, incorrect. However, I'll try to use the opportunity to give some further reflections on this season, apart from the ones I've already mentioned in my mid-season report.

Mrs Chamberlain's son makes an appearance: NO. Honestly, where was Mrs Chamberlain this season? I was sure that Marian's kindness towards her in season one would stand her in good stead, and that Mrs Chamberlain would keep on playing a part as a useful Marian ally. But Mrs Chamberlain didn't make an appearance at all, even less her son. The only thing I got right here was that a "not obviously Mr Wrong" character was introduced, in order to delay the pairing up of Marian and Larry. It just wasn't Mr Chamberlain Jr.

Speaking of Marian and Larry, when they finally start taking a romantic interest in each other, it feels like it's coming out of the blue. One minute, Marian is firmly friend-zoning him, the next they are kissing, and publicly too. Well. At least it will finally lead to more entanglements between the Russell and the van Rhijn households.

Mr Russell does Marian a good turn: NOPE. I don't think they even spoke. As I touched on in the previous paragraph, my ongoing complaint about this series is that there's so little interaction between its protagonist families. The Russells are caught up in their dramas, the van Rhijns/Brookes in theirs. Mr Russell rebuffing Oscar's proposal to Gladys was one of the few instances where a storyline involved both families, and it didn't have any major effect on relations between the neighbours. Agnes, for instance, wasn't miffed that her son had been shown the door as the fortune hunter he was. But then, she is unaware of his intrigues half of the time.

Maybe season three will finally be the one where Marian "infiltrates" the Russell household? Or was the initial description of the series as plain wrong as most of my predictions?

An English Lord for Gladys? YES! Finally I got something right, as Bertha seems ready to pimp her unfortunate daughter to an English duke, forebodingly titled the Duke of Buckingham. Poor Gladys really has no luck. She was just getting interested in another young man, previously introduced to her by her mother as an acceptable match. On the other hand, there's nothing obviously wrong with Buckingham, other than that he's most likely skint.

The conflict between mother and daughter will be fun to see as Mr Russell, in a moment of weakness, promised to back his daughter up if she ever found a man she truly loved. By this time, I feel I need some exposition or flashbacks which explain George Russell's attachment to family values and devotion for his wife, which sometimes borders on weakness. He ends up apologising for being hit on by Bertha's former lady's maid, although he turned her advances down. Anyway, if he wants to keep his promise to his daughter, he'd better man up now.

Bertha Russell and Agnes van Rhijn team up: FORGET IT. I really thought that the main conflict of the series, or one of them at least, would be between Bertha and Agnes. But no. Bertha has too much on her plate antagonising Mrs Astor, and Agnes doesn't deign to show much interest, even of the hostile kind, for the nouveau riche Russells. And as, in this case, there has to be a feud before there can be a team-up, I'd say we're in for a long wait before these hard-as-steel broads join forces.

We learn more about Peggy's ex: NO. I'll have to rewatch season one, haven't I? Because it's still unclear to me what exactly happened to Peggy's ex. He seems to be dead, anyhow. With their poor little son killed off, it doesn't seem likely that Peggy's past will be brought up much in future. Though the man who adopted Peggy's son, and who lost his wife in the same disease as the one that took the boy, was really nice, wasn't he? Perhaps he'll find a reason to re-enter Peggy's life?

Battle of the butlers: YES (kind of). I'm counting this one as a win, although Bannister's attempt at retaliation against Church was swiftly regretted and nipped in the bud by Bannister himself. Hostilities now seem to be permanently suspended. Is this the beginning of a beautiful butler friendship? One can only hope.

For all my grumbling, I think I'd rank season two of The Gilded Age above season one. The pace picked up in the later episodes and the dramatic and emotional moments were nicely handled. Nevertheless, all the drama tends to end up in things staying more or less the way there are. I'm hoping that season three will risk more definite changes of the status quo.