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War and Peace recap: episode one – 'costume drama at its most lavish'

BBC1’s new adaptation of Tolstoy’s classic is Sunday-night TV at its best, with Lily James, Paul Dano and James Norton all excelling in their roles

Viv Groskop

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Mon 4 Jan 2016 07.19 GMTFirst published on Sun 3 Jan 2016 22.00 GMT

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War and Peace starring Pierre Bezukhov (Paul Dano), Natasha Rostov (Lily James) and Prince Andrei (James Norton). Photograph: BBC/Mitch Jenkins/Kaia Zak

Well, I know that must have cost a bomb, but it was worth every kopeck. That was utterly fabulous. Balls at the Winter Palace! Men in full military uniform galloping forth on white chargers! Stolen kisses in the conservatory! Dancing bears in drunken flashback scenes! Cavorting ladies drinking champagne! Pass me a magnum of your finest! Bring on the actresses! Actually, don’t bring on any more actors or actresses because they just lined up the entire alumni roster of Rada for this production and there aren’t any more actors or actresses left, they already used them all up.

This is proper, proper costume drama at its most lavish and its most dreamily, romantically Russian. This is how you do it, people. This is how you do it. Stop all period dramas being made now because nothing is going to match up to this. Sunday-night TV has been rescued. It’s hard to imagine how the BBC could have done a better job. It makes Downton Abbey look like am dram. It’s tonally perfect, striking exactly the right balance between drama and wit, action and emotion, passion and humour.

In fact, perhaps that’s the most surprising and exciting thing about this production: it’s actually (and intentionally) funny.

Boris (Aneurin Barnard) and Anna Mikhailovna (Rebecca Front). Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC

The face of Paul Dano as the hopeless but completely engaging Pierre Bezukhov is a Woody Allen character study in itself. Gillian Anderson’s Anna Pavlovna is a wonderfully subtle caricature of a society hostess. And Rebecca Front’s turn as Anna Mikhailovna is inspired casting: the ultimate busybody who’s damned if she’s going to let go of the old man’s last will and testament if someone she is connected to might benefit.

It’s the lightness of touch of the direction here that makes this piece work so well. Hats off to Tom Harper(The Borrowers, Peaky Blinders, The Woman in Black). He has coaxed performances out of every actor that are absolutely delicious and perfectly pitched. And the pace of it! Harper has said that the battle scenes involved “a lot of planning for a short amount of whizz bang”. But they are brilliantly done: evocative, saturated with colour, so real you feel as if you’re there. Forgive me for being so in love with it all. Possibly I have been, er, spiritually horsewhipped by the image of James Norton(Prince Andrei) on a stallion. I wish.

My only worry is that they’re throwing it away by only doing six hours. I wonder if they were influenced by the BBC’s legendary Pride and Prejudice, also six hours long. But War and Peace is the closest British television has come to Game of Thrones and that has had 50 episodes. Is it all going to feel a bit rushed and manic? And how on earth will we keep up with cast of 35 main characters? I’m anxious, but also excited and optimistic.

Those all-important Mr Darcy moments

Of course it’s a cliche that poor James Norton has to live up to the Colin Firth “wet T-shirt” moment. As does every man with floppy hair and a white shirt in any period drama produced since 1995. But he made his a spectacular claim to the crown here without having to remove or wet down any clothing. The hair! The brooding countenance! The unfathomable, disdainful regard! While Norton, aged 30, was on location in St Petersburg, a Russian said to him: “No man under 40 has ever taken this role on. Good luck.” But he doesn’t need the luck. He’s nailed it. That’s quite enough about nailing for now.

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Anna Pavlovna (Gillian Anderson) and Prince Vassily Kuragin (Stephen Rea). Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC/Laurie Sparham

Villain of the week

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Since the child-catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (upon whom this performance seems to be closely modelled), there has never been a villain so delightfully venal, hand-wringingly unctuous and broodingly cunning as Stephen Rea’s Prince Vassily. It’s rare to see such an understatedly brilliant performance: you can read Prince Vassily’s motives from the first second you lay eyes on him.

The novel opens with him, and writer Andrew Davies is right to preserve him here as the centrepiece: Prince Vassily represents everything that is claustrophobic and controlling about Russian court society and his face explains in a second why Pierre Bezukhov is so cornered and compromised and why Prince Andrei has to leave and fight.

Audrey Hepburn Award for Most Beautiful Lady Acting

This week’s award goes to Lily James, who plays Natasha Rostova, the role portrayed by Audrey Hepburn in the 1956 film version of War and Peace. (Henry Fonda played Pierre Bezukhov, fact fans.) Lily James (familiar to Sunday-night viewers as Lady Rose in Downton Abbey) has the most extraordinary and captivating face and a timeless elegance. She captures “youthful exuberance” in a single glance and sets the standard for period drama “beautiful lady” acting. I have a feeling she will win this award every episode. But let’s see.

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War and Peace: Natasha Rostov (Lily James) and Boris (Aneurin Barnard). Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC/Laurie Sparham

Russian pedant’s corner

Was there anything here to bother Russian speakers (I am one) or Tolstoy purists (I’m not one, but I have a degree in Russian literature)? Not overtly yet, although Davies has admitted he had to slash the novel in half in order to fit it into the timeframe. (This is, in itself, a miracle.)

He has taken a few liberties, such as the overt suggestion that there’s a sexual brother-sister Kuragin relationship (it’s only covert in the original). And obviously we “see” any sexual antics or flesh more than we “see” them in the novel. But that’s Davies for you. There are a few moments when the Russian pronunciations grate, but overall it’s consistent and viewer-friendly and that is what matters most. Vodka toasts with a gherkin chaser all round.

War and Peace recap: episode two – forget pecs appeal, it's all about the flop of the fringe

As the war against Napoleon continues, Pierre gets taken for a fool and Princess Marya learns of Prince Vassily’s plans, while Andrei and his quivering quiff go missing

Viv Groskop

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Sun 10 Jan 2016 22.01 GMTLast modified on Fri 12 Oct 2018 22.11 BST

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War and grease … James Norton as Prince Andrei. Photograph: BBC/Laurie Sparham

Phew. That tricky second episode. So much to live up to after the first outing. And yet it delivered. With a side order of stuffed pig. I’m not sure whether to credit director Tom Harper or screenwriter Andrew Davies for the pacing (I suspect it’s a combination of the two) but it’s the balance of varying speeds in this adaptation that makes it so satisfying. Maybe I’ve had too much of a sniff of Dolokhov’s brandy-laced breath, but this felt like a dance that draws you in. Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.

Is there anything this series can do wrong? Not much when Paul Dano is on screen. It’s hard to imagine a better casting for this role, and I must give particular mention to Pierre in his nightie which is just adorable. Dano is intensely sympathetic even though (or because?) Pierre is a bit of an idiot. We don’t really understand why he allows himself to be taken for such a fool by the decadent and exploitative friends who eat the food from under his nose (“because it always tastes better from another fellow’s plate”). And we wish he would see through Helene with her barely concealed venality (“One can get a bit tired of having one’s secret delights discovered over and over …’).

But this is a clever portrayal because Dano shows us what Tolstoy would have wanted: Pierre is a little like the worst human idiot in all of us and this is why we love him. There is also plenty of Tolstoy in the humble, confused Count. Plus, Pierre is a device: he reveals the worst excesses of Russian society of the time and provides a commentary on them.

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Peace pudding … Pierre (Paul Dano) dines with Helene (Tuppence Middleton). Photograph: BBC/Laurie Sparham

What else was genius? The soundtrack of portentous Russian Orthodox choral singing weighing in at every turn; you can almost smell the incense. The butter-wouldn’t-melt one-liners: “I am not really awfully good at coping with peasants and farms and I have rather a lot of engagements in the city.” “So you’ve tarted your hair up for our guests …” “There are three things I love to do: fight, drink and I can’t remember the other one.” Did I already mention Pierre’s nightie? (Let’s not talk about Liza’s nightie. It all went a bit Call the Midwife meets Carrie.)

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One slight chink in the armour? The Englishness of the piece. For example, Jim Broadbent as Count Bolkonsky, Prince Andrei’s father, is a fantastic character study of a repressed, controlling aristocrat. And his dismissive, depressed dialogue is fabulous: “Now your brother is dead. He’s dead. Leave me alone. And go and tell his wife. Go on.” But there were moments when it strayed into Austen territory. Did he almost say “No hard feelings … And jolly good to see you” when he dismissed the unctuous Kuragin pair? But maybe this stiff-upper-lip quality is exactly what makes War and Peace more enjoyable: it’s familiar (as are all the actors), so we can relax and concentrate on what is actually a very complicated and ambitious piece of narrative.

Those all-important Mr Darcy moments

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There was a strange lack of Napoleonic-era wet T-shirt equivalents in this outing. For a moment, I thought that Dolokhov, Pierre’s food-and-wife-stealing friend, would become the Mr Darcy of the piece and cast aside all his military regalia while ravishing Helene on the dinner table (obviously while he had eaten all the food off all the plates first). But there was not so much as a flash of flesh, male or female. For Andrew Davies, that scene was extraordinarily chaste.

Restraint all round this week, doubtless because our hero Prince Andrei was suspected dead for much of the episode and as such was not available to parade his torso. We had to make do with much quivering of quiff instead. This is making me wonder whether all the fuss about Colin Firth as Mr Darcy was really about his hair after all, which shares remarkable similarities with that of James Norton as Prince Andrei. Never mind the pecs, gentlemen: your audience just wants a flash of floppy fringe.

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Prince not-so charming … Anatole Kuragin (Callum Turner) and Helene (Tuppence Middleton). Photograph: Mitch Jenkins/BBC/PA

Villain of the week

Hard to choose between the ultimate greasemonger (and I mean that as the highest compliment) Prince Vassily (Stephen Rea) and his hilariously sickeningly carnal son Anatole (Callum Turner). The dynamic between these two in the “May we ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage?” scenes was electric. “Papa, is she really very ugly?” “She’s said to be a little on the plain side.” Horrific though Anatole is, fondling the French governess’ bodice while his intended fiancee serenaded him in Italian at the piano, it was Prince Vassily who yet again stole the show with his wheedling insincerities: “Will you not give me a little hope of touching so generous a heart?” “Anatole’s not the brightest button in the box…” “The hairstyle is most becoming to the princess!” Brilliant.

Audrey Hepburn award for Most Beautiful Lady Acting

Some commenters asked last week if Rebecca Front could have been a worthy contender for this award and indeed she could. For the beauty may lie in the acting or in the lady or both at the same time. However, this week it was all about Jessie Buckley as Marya Volkonskaya, Prince Andrei’s supposedly plain, icon-obsessed, religious little sister. I always think how miserable it must be for actresses to be cast as “the plain one” (especially when they are usually anything but; see America Ferrera when not on the set of Ugly Betty). But Buckley played this beautifully (while managing to look as “plain” as the role demanded) and you could virtually hear cheering across the land she uttered the lines: “I thank you for the honour. But I shall never be your son’s wife.”

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Holy Marya … Jessie Buckley as Prince Andrei’s supposedly plain, religious little sister. Photograph: BBC/Laurie Sparham

Russian pedant’s corner

Oh dear. There were a few moments to trouble the Russian pedant this week. Some are personal: I mentioned on Twitter earlier this week that it’s a shame no one has brought out Tolstoy’s obsession with the moustache of the upper lip of Liza, Prince Andrei’s pregnant wife. Nor has Natasha Rostova’s fondess for pineapple ice-cream been referenced once. But these are omissions not errors.

Where there are miniature errors or Anglicisms (depending on how generous you’re feeling), I cannot blame the production team for making the decisions they have made because they are sensible. Natasha’s brother Nikolai Rostov (Jack Lowden) would never be called “Nicki”. Nicki is not a diminutive in Russian. It would be “Kolya”. Likewise, Natasha would not be called “Tasha”. Natasha is already the diminutive because her name is Natalya. (I did promise Russian pedantry, comrades.)

But, as I say, these decisions are sensible because it would be too annoying for a non-Russian audience who would be sitting at home thinking: “Hang on, he is Niki-something. Why are they calling him Koly-something all of a sudden?”

And none of this is an error on an Elton John scale (Nikita is actually a man’s name, so the whole business with Nikita – portrayed as a woman in the video to his 1985 top 10 hit – was incredibly weird, although maybe it was all a coded message). Tolstoy would have approved of this footnote, by the way. There are 329 footnotes in War and Peace. They’re not all Elton John-themed, though.

War and Peace recap: episode three - fifty shades of Freemasons!

The Tsar’s Ball brings Andrei and Natasha together, Tuppence Middleton’s Helene devours Boris, and Ken Stott is a welcome addition to the excellent cast

Viv Groskop

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Sun 17 Jan 2016 22.00 GMTLast modified on Fri 12 Oct 2018 22.11 BST

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War and Peace with Anna Pavlovna (Gillian Anderson) and Bilibin (Rory Keenan). Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC/Laurie Sparham

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better. It’s Ken Stott with Fifty Shades of Freemasons! “I should like to help you if I can. But if for any reason you find conversation with me unpleasant, please say so.” No, please continue, Comrade Freemason. Our hero Pierre is in dire need of spiritual sustenance. “How can I know God if all my powers of reasoning tell me he cannot exist?” “God is apprehended not by reason but by life.” Amen. Bring Richard Dawkins to Freemason Stott now.

A beautiful episode and one that did a fantastic job of piecing together lots of short, anecdotal scenes and making them seem coherent. It’s so rare to see a piece of television where new characters can suddenly appear out of nowhere (such as Freemason Stott) and it doesn’t jar. In fact, you welcome these random types and don’t question their involvement in an already complex picture. Somehow War and Peace creates an impression of a universe we know and don’t question: characters float in and out of focus without the audience losing sight of the through line.

The buildup to the Tsar’s Ball and the inevitable meeting of Andrei and Natasha was excellent. And the ball itself was a highlight of the series: wonderfully shot with a mix of intimacy and grandeur rarely seen on television. Tom Harper (director) barely needed to do anything here other than follow the face of Lily James (Natasha) who is a real delight and captures Natasha’s innocence perfectly.

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Prince Andrei (James Norton) and Natasha Rostov (Lily James). Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC/Laurie Sparham

I was fractionally less convinced (and I’m splitting some hairs plucked from the outer parts of Dolokhov’s moustache here) by the scenes in rural Russia. Do we really understand the nature of the friendship between Pierre and Andrei? Or does it feel like a plot device? And they could have done with messing the scenery and the costumes up a bit. I know it’s supposed to represent a breathably idyllic Tolstoyan landscsape. The bees … the icicles … the snowy fields … I felt my asthma dissipating as I watched. But there would have been at least a bit of mud spattered about.

I’ll forgive all that, though, for the performance of Thomas Arnold as Denisov. His mazurka moment was so endearing and his proposal heart-breaking. “Oh dear. I wish you hadn’t said that.” “Please. Forget about it. A moment of madness. All over now.” I loved how this represented the fatalism of the piece. Life is not about getting what you want. Everyone seems a bit Austen. But this is Russia, my friends. This idea was echoed in Pierre’s face in this week’s final scene which said it all: happy for his friend, devastated for himself. “You’re the luckiest man on earth … don’t let her get away.”

Those all-important Mr Darcy moments

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I am tempted to put Dolokhov in this category because it seems that he is coming to the fore as an object of fascination. (OK. That’s a euphemism. I have the hots for him. I won’t be shamed.) However, we can’t rob him of his true crown as Villain of the Week. Prince Andrei is still Darcy. And he showed here what an interesting and problematic character he is: yes, he is supposed to be a classic, swoonsome hero. But it’s not that side of him that Natasha falls in love with. It’s because there’s something quiet at the heart of him. People have talked about this in the comments here. James Norton is no Aidan Turner. But he has something else: an indefinable, calm charm. No bare-chested wood-chopping or lake-swimming required. I’m still surprised at (screenwriter) Andrew Davies’ restraint in this department. But it’s true to the novel and true to the character.

Villain of the Week

This week the award (represented by a twirly moustache made of gold filigree – I have commissioned it from Putin’s jeweller) goes to Dolokhov (Tom Burke). I am wary of the use of the world “legend” in modern parlance but I think it appropriate here: both actor and character are legends. “I’m just a man who loves to fight. It’s all I know ... to my shame.” The bit where he ate the snow was extraordinary. “Missed.” Wow.

This was swiftly followed by a typical Davies moment: showing us that this is not a one-dimensional figure by making Dolokhov have a howl about his good old mum and sister, whom he loves very much. This is Tolstoyan too: in terms of humanity, Dolokhov is about as low as you can go but there’s also a grudging admiration for him and an acknowledgement that no one is all bad.

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Nikolai Rostov (Jack Lowden) and Dolokhov (Tom Burke). Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC/Laurie Sparham

Audrey Hepburn award for most beautiful lady acting

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The award (depicted by a lace-edged flesh-coloured negligee) must go to Tuppence Middleton for Evil Helene. Poor Boris didn’t stand a chance: “Are you hungry?” Tuppence Middelton is a fine, fine actress. (We will overlook her name. Her parents are called Nigel and Tina and she is from Bristol and it’s the nickname her grandmother gave to her mother. So leave her alone.)

She manages to capture a tiny flicker of humanity (although it truly is tiny) in Helene’s icicle-infested heart: she’s gorgeous and venal and utterly ruthless. But somewhere deep inside she is scared and doing all of this out of self-preservation. I also see a touch of Joan Collins circa 1979 (The Bitch) in this performance and that’s never a bad thing.

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Bilibin (Rory Keenan) and Helene Kuragin (Tuppence Middleton). Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC/Laurie Sparham

Russian pedant’s corner

The poor Russian pedant (not that I’m identifying with this mythical person …) must have had their head in their hands during the folk-singing scenes. Dolokhov’s was bad. But Natasha’s and Nikolai’s was even worse. Why did they do this? It was a mistake.

No actor wants to learn to sing a song in Russian when their character has been speaking in English the whole time. It didn’t add to the flavour of the piece and was painful to listen to. I can’t imagine the Italian bit (with Natasha and Sonya on the balcony) was much better (I don’t speak Italian) but that’s not so important: Natasha and Sonya are not Italian so it would be fine if they sang in strongly-accented Italian. It’s not fine to sing in Rada-accented Russian.

Not their fault, of course. And well done for trying. But don’t do it again.

War and Peace recap episode four: doom with a view

Opportunity knocks for Boris, Anatole makes a play for Natasha and Nikolai tries to do the right thing as Tolstoy’s epic continues

Viv Groskop

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Sun 24 Jan 2016 22.00 GMTLast modified on Fri 12 Oct 2018 22.11 BST

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Snow white: Lily James as Natasha Rostov. Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC

‘I shall come to you as soon as I arrive in Moscow’

Oh dear, oh dear. It’s all taken a very wrong turn. Emotionally, I mean. (Poor Prince Andrei and his forever opening-and-closing Austerlitz wound!) Narratively, directorially and aesthetically everything is still on top form. The strands are slowing coming together and it’s all rising to fever pitch.

War and Peace recap: episode three - fifty shades of Freemasons!

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The Russian doom of this episode was most pleasing. It wouldn’t do to mix up our novels too much but, really, this is the part of War and Peace that is most like Anna Karenina, designed by Tolstoy to showcase The Inevitable Ruination of Women, Even The Seemingly Good Ones (Because Ultimately All Women Are Evil).

Andrew Davies (screenwriter) has drawn this out cleverly: Tolstoy loves premonitions and portentous foreshadowing. In this episode, these signs were everywhere, with Natasha doing the reckless Gypsy dancing and seeing the wolf and Sonya in the haunted barn.

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Country life: Natasha rides on. Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC

Lily James did a fantastic job of portraying Natasha’s confused state of mind. It’s not an easy leap to make, this, as it seems to contradict everything we know about Natasha, who has been fairly child-like up until this point. I wasn’t so entirely convinced by the portrayal of Anatole (Callum Turner). Beware the creepy, gloved hand of creepy, bullying Anatole, Natasha! Be strong!

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Anatole has been fabulously evil. But at this moment in the story he needs to show some quality that would attract and not repel Natasha. I’m not sure he did. We need to be shouting “DON’T DO IT, NATASHA” while understanding why she is strangely compelled to do it, and is not just a very silly girl. Because she needs to remain the heroine. Still, it was beautifully shot, with all those predatory glances around the coat hooks.

There was some superb humour this week to contrast with the high drama. The scene between the calculatingly opportunistic Boris (Aneurin Barnard) and oh-so-fragile, saucer-eyed drama queen Julie Karagina (Chloe Pirrie) was beautifully played. (Note: Karagina is not to be confused with Kuragina – she is nothing to do with The Evil Siblings. You’d think Tolstoy would find another name, but anyway … I suppose he was quite busy.)

Was there something a bit too Britishly embarrassed in the scenes between Natasha and Andrei’s family? Probably. But there are so many great scenes that any minor flaws are swept away. It was fascinating to see Rebecca Front wring every drop of nuance and wit out of her lines: “Of course … you haven’t heard! He’s the accepted suitor!” And I loved Ade Edmondson’s brilliant portrayal of total denial of reality when it comes to the state of his finances: “This is what we need! Forget our troubles and get out to see the real Old Russia!” An excellent description of the effect of this series on Austerity Britain.

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Anna Mikhailovna (Rebecca Front), Julie Karagina (Chloe Pirrie) and Boris (Aneurin Barnard). Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC

Those all-important Mr Darcy moments

Now that we’re on episode four, I think it’s safe to set the “Mr Darcy” comparisons to one side for now, especially as Prince Andrei seems to have been thrown over. We can’t possibly anoint Anatole as the new Darcy, as he’s too evil. As is Boris. And Nikolai, despite eventually doing the right thing and pronouncing his love for Sonya, is too weak. If only he had married Julie Karagina and saved the family’s finances and carried on with Sonya on the side!

Pierre had a shout at some Darcy moments tonight. But he appears to have been on the pies and vodka in secret. So he can yell, “If I find you in Moscow after midnight tonight, I will kill you!” all he wants, but he hasn’t attained hero status yet.

Of course, if this were a mini-series and not an adaptation of the most admired novel in history then there would have been more Dolokhov and Denisov in this episode, for a touch of Lord Flashheart appeal (Rik Mayall’s character in Blackadder) and some light relief. But you can’t have everything, can you?

I did, however, particularly enjoy this line: “Why is he dressed like a Persian?” If you’re Dolokhov, you can dress however the hell you want.

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Super furry: Sonya (Aisling Loftus), Nikolai Rostov (Jack Lowden) and Natasha Rostov (Lily James). Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC

Villain of the week

It’s a toss-up between Anatole and Helene here. Clearly Anatole is masterfully wicked. But is Helene even more evil? I think she might be. Anatole wants his way with Natasha. But Helene wants more than that: she wants to see Natasha’s utter corruption and ruin (possibly so that she can feel better about herself) and she wants to know that she has had a hand in it. Helene was the one who put Natasha in the box at the theatre where she was captive and powerless to escape the gloved hand of evil.

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It’s not clear who Pierre is speaking to – the brother or the sister – when he says: “Wherever you are, there is depravity and evil.” But my money is on Helene. I’m convinced her hair is always so elaborate and beautiful because there are snakes growing beneath it. Helene wins.

Audrey Hepburn award for most beautiful lady acting

Aisling Loftus: 'Tolstoy is quite cruel about women'

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A word here for Sonya (Aisling Loftus). This should be a miserable, simpering role to play: a girl who is resented by the family she lives with and who knows that she has little chance of ending up with the man she loves, or, really with any man, because she has no fortune and no outstanding beauty. But Aisling Loftus has brought a lovely, quiet charm to this role. She was instrumental in this episode in showing how unthinkable Natasha’s behaviour was. Let’s shout it loud and proud: no one puts Sonya in the corner.

Russian pedant’s corner

The Russian pedant (for it is I, thinly disguised by a Freemason’s blindfold) has only just emerged from the dunce corner after getting one of the character’s names wrong in this section last week. Even pedants can fail to be sufficiently pedantic sometimes. One thing I will say this week is this: real Russians would not go out in the snow in such flimsy clothes, 19th century or not. Also: the balalaika sing-song in ye olde worlde izba (log house) was a bit too clean for its own good, in both psychological and hygienic terms. Doesn’t anyone ever get their hands dirty in the middle of the Russian countryside?

War and Peace recap: episode five – heroes, leeches and a cast of thousands

Even if the condensing of Tolstoy’s epic is showing up its unbelievable coincidences, this is still glorious telly – from Darcy-esque heroes to wheedling villains and a marvel in the form of Jessie Buckley’s Marya

Viv Groskop

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Sun 31 Jan 2016 22.00 GMTLast modified on Tue 19 Dec 2017 21.08 GMT

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A proper hero: James Norton as Prince Andrei at the battle of Borodino. Photograph: Robert Viglasky/BBC

‘Strange how things turn out sometimes …’

Pierre! Get away from the battle! You will kill people from the wrong side by stepping on them. I laughed out loud at Pierre attending the scene of the battle of Borodino, barely able to get his boots on and getting in everyone’s way. “I should like to get in the thick of it … Let me know if there’s anything I can do …” Except actually fight, obviously. “Let me carry the munitions! I am strong from copious pie-eating.” I cheered like a self-satisfied hussar with a bellyful of borsch when Anatole’s leg fell off. And I wept like an innocent plum-picking peasant girl when Andrei took hold of what was left of that wolf-like scoundrel’s hand.

War and Peace recap episode four: doom with a view

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With more than half of the novel left to go in only two hours, this episode had a lot of explaining to do. And it did its best to do it, even though the result was rather like dancing the mazurka with Dolokhov: full of highs, lows and every emotion imaginable, and at the end of it you don’t know whether you’re in love, dead or somehow mysteriously pregnant.

My fangirl tendencies towards this series are not dwindling. There’s so much to like. Prince Bolkonsky charging off to war and dropping off his horse before he could get to the end of the driveway. Natasha getting all religious and borrowing Dolokhov’s turban. And let’s not forget the starring role played by the leeches.

However, the problem of length (or, rather, its lack) is messing with the tone a bit. It’s not because they’re having to race through the story. Although it seems that way. No, the problem is this: War and Peace is a novel about forgiveness and the role of fate in our lives. When all the plot points are mushed together like this, the characters don’t seem so much swayed by fate but instead in the grip of the most unlikely coincidences.

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Master of destruction: Matthieu Kassovitz as Napoleon. Photograph: Robert Viglasky/BBC

What’s that? Nikolai Rostov is passing by a country estate and it just happens to be where Princess Marya is? And what’s this? Nikolai has gone to Voronezh and Marya just happens to also be in Voronezh? And I’ll be blowed: Prince Andrei is wounded at Borodino, a battle featuring 250,000 soldiers, and the man in the bed next to him in the infirmary is the one man in the world whom he bears the most rancour? “Fancy seeing you here!”

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This is the huge difference between a television screenplay and a world where a novelist is in charge. You can get away with these “coincidences” in a novel, especially when there are hundreds of pages separating the inciting incidents. It seems more clumsy on screen. If things seem to jar a little, blame Tolstoy, because he’s just a bit too didactic sometimes: “See how important it is to believe in God and show forgiveness to your fellow man!” And blame the BBC budgets for not stretching to an extra couple of hours to cover this up a bit better.

But still, all this is chepukha (inconsequential nonsense) next to the scale and feel of this glorious, praiseworthy production. You want war? We’ll give you war. On an epic scale and with blood and gore and thousands of Baltic extras (these scenes were filmed in Latvia and Lithuania). Best bits? The scenes between Natasha and Pierre. Napoleon tugging Boris’s ear and Boris being really not very sure about it at all. And Helene’s new beau being really not very sure at all that he wants to marry her. Sensible man. Ah, how I’ll miss them all. Please, nice Mr Weinstein, give us some more money so that it can go on longer?

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Runner-up for Darcy of the week: Fedor Dolokhov (Tom Burke). Photograph: Mitch Jenkins/BBC

Those all-important Mr Darcy moments

I know some will consider me an enfeebled, tuberculosis-ridden female, but this episode belonged to Prince Andrei. He’s a proper hero. Let’s not forget that this is the man Tolstoy wished he could be, although Tolstoy knows that he is like Pierre. Andrei is the ur-man: brave, bold, noble, self-sacrificing. Yes, he is a bit of an idiot for not forgiving Natasha. But we’re all human.

James Norton did a superb job here with a character who is not easy to portray: Prince Andrei is brooding, and we rarely get to hear his interior monologue. But that furrowed brow and quivering quiff said it all. “We’re getting cut to pieces …” “Nothing to do but enjoy it.” Bravo.

Runner-up Darcy? Dolokhov, of course! See how big his heart is! Petrushka saw it and so did we. (As all fans of the Russian pedant’s corner will know, Petrushka means “little Pierre”.) I would also like to put in a word for the man who popped his head out of his peasant’s hut to say: “Don’t mind me, I’ll just set fire to my own house to save the French the trouble.” Now that’s proper, self-destructive Russian heroism.

Villain of the week

Anatole: pathetic in life and pathetic while having his leg chopped off. (And what a heavy leg. Did you hear that thud as it hit the floor? Ouch.) This was a necessary comeuppance. He is superseded as supervillain by his father, Prince Kuragin, doing what he does best: wheedling and whining and wincing, over champagne and caviar at the salon of Anna Pavlovna (Gillian Anderson). Stephen Rea made a wonderful re-appearance here just when we needed him to show the distance between layers of society in Russia and the sheer cynicism displayed by the aristocracy: “We shall all have to brush up on our French again …”

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Truly memorable: Jessie Buckley as Princess Marya. Photograph: Robert Viglasky/BBC

Audrey Hepburn award for most beautiful lady acting

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Jessie Buckley as Princess Marya really is a marvel. If anyone deserves a happy ending, it’s Marya. Buckley has managed to bring out everything possible in this minor character and push her to the heart of things. It’s a truly memorable performance. It’s not easy to portray a soppy, religious-obsessed, spinster-in-waiting and make her seem noble, righteous and lovable. But she has done it.

Russian pedant’s corner

There was so much going on this week that I could find little to trouble the Russian pedant. (I know. There must be something wrong with me. I need a reviving draught of some kind.) So instead I will offer some observations from historian Simon Schama, possibly the world’s biggest fan of the novel of War and Peace and not the greatest fan of this TV adaptation.

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We have been tweeting. He is annoyed that at the dinner party where Pierre challenged Dolokhov, we did not hear Helene’s corset creak. Another moment was omitted when “the bored, lonely Natasha pointlessly calls for a rooster and then forgets”. And he did not like the throwaway depiction of the comet in last week’s episode. (It was at the beginning – blink and you’d miss it. It’s the most important page in the novel, he says. Indeed it’s “one of the greatest pages in any novel”.) Russian pedants of the world, consider yourself bested.

For me, this week the only thing that made me wince was Pierre calling Natasha “Tasha” (not something anyone does in Russian). But I’ve already moaned about that, so I’ll shut up.

This article was amended on Monday 1 February: it originally read that Pierre challenged Anatole, when it should have read Dolokhov.

War and Peace recap: episode six – bows out with a bonkers beard

The coincidences continue to come thick and fast as Pierre tries to be heroic, Natasha and Andrei are reunited and the villains get their comeuppance. But didn’t it end well?

Viv Groskop

@vivgroskop

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Mon 8 Feb 2016 07.51 GMTFirst published on Sun 7 Feb 2016 22.20 GMT

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Pierre and his new best friend: who says owners don’t look like their dogs? Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC

‘I know I’ve been a clown and wasted my life …’

No! It’s all over! Bring them back! Make Pierre regrow his bonkers prisoner beard! Make Sonya and Denisov get it on at a mazurka party! Bring Helene back to life and let’s see what a terrible mother she would have made! I can’t believe it’s over. But didn’t it end well? Setting aside the ridiculousness of Nikolai’s Duran Duran hair and peasant costume in the final “bucolic idyll at the dacha” bit. Where none of the actors looked a day older than episode one despite the passing of 15 years.

Did they have to race to fit it all in? Da. Was there a lot of messing around with the novel to make that happen? Da. Was it a travesty? Nyet. Screenwriter Andrew Davies, director Tom Harper and the entire cast can hold their heads high as the final, almost-feature-length episode upheld the standards they have established from the outset: classy, sensitive, lavish, memorable.

Best plot point of the last episode? Pierre’s attempts at heroism. “There’s something I have to do. Something terrible. Kill Napoleon.” Oh, Pierre. The only thing you’re good at killing is time, you great lummox. And don’t go into the burning building! Pierre, your destiny is not to assassinate Napoleon. Your destiny is to flail around like a loon, go gaga over Natasha and make profound statements about old men’s dogs.

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Once again we had the collision of a gazillion coincidences, which are obviously so much more subtle in the novel (because they’re spread apart by many, many, many pages). Of all the millions of residents in Moscow, who’s this Natasha spots from her carriage in a split second? Why, it’s Pierre! Out of tens of thousands of soldiers, which French regiment does Dolokhov happen to attack? Why, the one holding Pierre prisoner! And in a country spanning an eighth of the world’s land mass and 6.5m square miles, to whose rural retreat is Prince Andrei conveyed? Why, Natasha’s, of course!

To mention all this, though, is rather like picking vshy (nits) out of Pierre’s prisoner beard. Because without these novelistic “moments of fate”, there would be no War and Peace at all. No matter, then. This was great television. The Frenchman who misguidedly recognised in Pierre a fellow Lover of Many Women. Helene with her blood-soaked gown. Ade Edmondson as Ilya, regal and hopeless in his coffin.

The message? Beautifully conveyed via Pierre via the man with the dog. “He never worried. He took pleasure in the good things and endured the bad things cheerfully. So now I’m trying to live like him. Is that ridiculous?” No, Pierre. Not at all. (What is ridiculous, my friend, is walking around the Battle of Borodino saying, “Excuse me, do you require any assistance? Please don’t let me get in your way.”)

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Pierre tries to cheer everyone up on the retreat from Moscow. Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC

Those all-important Mr Darcy moments

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No, Andrei, don’t die! We had a little weep at the flashback scenes in our house. (OK, OK, it was just me.) Prince Andrei has been a complicated hero but he has been the hero nonetheless. “Is it really you …? Natasha, I love you. I was in the wrong.” He then talked about how much he loved a buzzing bluebottle. This was not so impressive to Natasha. “Don’t talk too much. You’ll tire yourself.” These were poignant scenes between Lily James and James Norton, both of whom managed to bring an added maturity and depth to their characters when it counted.

Runner-up heroes? Dolokhov and Denisov to the rescue! This was the most crowd-pleasing moment of all, especially Dolokhov’s crazily arrogant, ultra-proficient Eddie Izzard-style French-speaking: “Bonne chance et bonne nuit!” I was just waiting for him to say: “Le singe est sur la branche.” Dommage. Next time.

Villain of the week

Well, Helene got her comeuppance, didn’t she? “You must leave now, Countess. You never should have come.” Cue the most deep-throated Orthodox church singing you’ve ever heard and Helene drinking the poisonous Italian abortion medicine by candlelight. Not sure how she managed to not get pregnant until now with all her comings and goings, but never mind. (Tolstoy calls this, by the way, “a treatment to remove inconvenience”. What a mean way to talk about Helene.)

I also want to mention Mademoiselle Bourienne on Villains’ Row because I feel she has been secretly, quietly evil all along. Although she did manage to leave the room at the exactly right moment in tonight’s episode. But what’s this? Here’s Prince Vassily! “She’s dead. My lovely girl.” Still wheedling, still vile, if a little more sympathetically beardy. Ah well, all the villains were punished in the end and rightly so.

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Pierre enjoys a drink with his French buddy, Ramballe. Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC

Audrey Hepburn award for most beautiful lady acting

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Sonya was at her fatalistic best tonight. Her face when she was writing the letter releasing Nikolai! Does anyone have a more miserable fate in this bloody book than poor Sonya? Even the people who die get heroic or tragic endings. Sonya just has to go on being the poor relation, pitied by all, with everyone knowing she loved Nikolai but can’t have him. “How can you be so self-sacrificing?” “Oh, because I’m used to it.” If this was Jane Austen she would have got Colonel Brandon, sorry, Denisov, as a consolation prize.

The overall award for most beautiful lady acting? I’m tempted to give it to Lily James, because she did a good job tonight. “No one will want me after my disgrace … I do wonder what happened to Pierre … Do you think we’ll ever see him again?” (Er … spoiler alert, Natasha! It’s the point of the whole book!) But Princess Marya (Jessie Buckley) has knocked them all into a cocked Napoleonic tricorne. Hasn’t she come a long way since the Oliver!-themed BBC talent show I’d Do Anything?

Russian pedant’s corner

The pronunciation of names was unusually troubling tonight. What’s with “Princess Bolkonsky”? It should be Bolkonskaya for a woman. A lot of the transliteration has been inconsistent. And Karataev’s dog Sashenka should be pronounced with the accent on the first syllable. (Izvinite – excuse me – but this isn’t called Russian pedant’s corner for nothing.)

The Russian pedant was, however, thrilled to see the Rostov family sitting down for ages before their journey away from Moscow. According to Russian tradition, it’s bad luck to return for something you’ve left behind. So you have to sit still for a while before you leave, pray for good luck and try to remember what that thing might be. It’s highly recommended as a custom if, like me, you are prone to forgetting things on your way out of the house. Give it a go, comrades! If you’re not too busy weeping that it’s finally all over. Personally, I’m not planning to leave the house for weeks. I may grow a bonkers Pierre prisoner beard.