by Allan Fish
(UK 2001 487m) not on DVD
The writing on the wall
p Claire Hirsch d David Moore, Hettie MacDonald w Kevin Hood, Neil Biswas novel Tim Pears ph Alwin Kuchler ed Bill Diver m Jocelyn Pook, Harvey Brough art Mark Stevenson cos Pam Tait, Dinah Collin
Robert Pugh (Charles Freeman), Helen McCrory (Mary Freeman), Shaun Dingwall (James Freeman), Kaye Wragg (Laura), Hazel Monaghan (Mina), Susannah Wise (Alice Freeman), Tony Maudsley (Simon Freeman), James Bradshaw (young James), Charlotte Salt (young Laura), Ravi Kapoor, Shirley Henderson, Kathleen Byron,
The BBC’s still baffling decision to only release to VHS despite the year of release hasn’t helped this masterpiece. Nor did their decision to try and sneak it into the early year schedule like a wedding crasher. One would be forgiven for thinking they were ashamed of it. Yet let us make one thing perfectly clear, to say this is one of the great small screen achievements of the 21st century, despite being first shown only weeks into said century, does it a disservice. It’s one of the great works of either screen of the modern era.
At its centre we have the Freeman family, headed by engineering industrialist Charles, and covers their lives from around 1952 to the mid 1990s. Personal loves, hates and tragedies come and go, including a suicide and brutal murder, and continue to haunt not only the family but the fringe, in the shape of the housekeeper’s daughter.
If that seems a stingy summation of eight hours of drama, then it’s meant to be, for it’s not the plot in itself that merits its reputation. The early episodes are filled with the same sense of nostalgic, wistful memory – interspersed with old film clips – that recall the work of Terence Davies. The family matriarch and patriarch are deliberately unsympathetic, the latter refusing to accept anything that doesn’t conform to his hard facts view of the world, the other stifled by him but at the same time cruelly disparaging of her own children – most memorably when smirking at her son’s desire to go into sales and venomously retorting “why not be really ambitious and train as a cost accountant?”
Visually alone Plenty has a distinct other-worldly feel, intensified by the video-style shooting, and when one considers the part home movies, and unnoticed elements to them, play in the series as a whole. It’s filled with the echoes of disappointments (how to forget old Kathleen Byron, suffering from dementia, singing ‘Over the Rainbow’ at a funeral), and of dreams lost, of patriarchal pride reduced to wandering the estate of former glories. And as for the chief patriarch, though he may be too old for the opening episode or so, Pugh is magnificent as Charles, and he’s matched by McCrory as his doomed wife. Nonetheless the story really belongs to three people, two adults and one child. Dingwall is superb as the narrator of the piece, making one mourn his lack of opportunity since, but even more disheartening in the aftermath of the series’ neglect by its makers, is the overlooking of Wragg. It wasn’t her first iconic moment; we still cherish a conversation over a shared spliff by Ullswater with John Simm, when one would have been forgiven for predicting stardom for both. Here she exhibits a rare intelligence and a keen enigmatic glance. She and Dingwall’s handling of what amounts to foreplay during a food photographic shoot is one of the most touching seductions in recent memory. Finally, there’s Monaghan, the epitome of the shattering power of grief and silence, one of the most haunting child performances you will ever see. Yet even these performances do not capture the essence of Plenty. It’s the little things, like black and white pictures secured by the corners in old family albums, reflections in a prism, fingers traced along shadowy walls and peering through window drawings on steamy car windows. The image often seen that a solitary human face, and one that haunts and almost paralyses us. If one had to describe it on a personal level, in just two words, it would be ‘pears soap.’ The reasons are my own, and any viewer will have a different answer. The whisper campaign to have this magical tapestry released to DVD and get the respect it deserves starts here, and will get louder with each passing day.
Wow. I’ve never heard of this one. Will keep an eye open.
“It’s the little things, like black and white pictures secured by the corners in old family albums, reflections in a prism, fingers traced along shadowy walls and peering through window drawings on steamy car windows. ” – Lovely.
Let me second that passage JAFB, great work Allan. Rather poetic.
For this really gem to bring forth that type of feeling makes me very curious to see it. Hopefully it will see dvd release some day in the (very) near future.
I’d go hunting for torrents and the lot like I normally do when Allan presents something this obscure, but since this is a mini-series that would be quite a download, so I’ll wait.
Again though, great review and bottom screencap is beautiful.
Never heard of this one, Allan, I love when you pop out a film like this. It’s predictably long though, so it will take me ages to get around to it.
I figured at least some miniseries would make the list, but damned if I have a clue what this is. Obviously, no DVD release affects that, but man did this totally throw me.
the fact that no-one Stateside will have seen or heard of it (apart from Sam, who I sent it to several years ago) is merely another reason why it must be highlighted. It’s an unequivocal masterpiece and its neglect even by the BBC is shocking. I have DVDRs from which I took the pictures here, but this MUST be released to DVD.
Allan, as you well know I did see this and praised it highly. it is admittedly an excellent choice for this countdown, i must say.
But I said that you had seen it. Where did you learn to read? Were you taught by Whackford Squeers?
Why would the BBC release this on VHS in 2001??? That seems to be a bigger fumbling error than even poor Robert Green. Remember unless we can see it in the US it doesn’t really exist lol. I will remember the title if it should ever be made available.
My sentiments exactly, Maurizio. The only good thing to say about the VHS release is that at least it was a release of sorts and that at least it was widescreen. But that’s where the thanks end. It’s rather like distributing the Mappa Mundi when we knew the world was round.
Allan, I did see this on BBC America just after it was made. They used to show wonderful stuff like this and “Perfect Strangers” as well as quirky comedies like “Gimme, Gimme” and “The Royle Family” that I love so much. But no more–it’s all Gordon Ramsey, “Top Gear,” and schlockumentaries like “My Mums Used to Be My Dads,” “My Big Breasts and I,” and “My Husband Is a Transvestite.” (Forgive the rant.) I can’t say that I recall “In a Land” that well except in the most general way, so it must not have made as strong an impression on me as it did on you. Your post makes me think it might have been too much to take in fully on one viewing. However, it did start to come back to me as I read. I do recall being impressed by the ambitious scope of the story, taking place over decades, and how well this sprawling narrative was handled. I also recall the probing consideration of the rather unique family dynamics it dealt with. I do remember quite well some of the superb performances, most by actors I was unacquainted with at the time but have come to know better since. I recall Pugh being quite good as the stern and unsympathetic patriarch and his wife who died early in the series. Was that the wonderful McRory, who I didn’t know then but whose work I’ve come to admire since? She was great in the recent “Vampires of Venice” episode of “Dr. Who” and quite memorable as the psycho in the TV version of Peter Lovesy’s “On the Edge. Also hilarious in the adaptation of “Lucky Jim” and quite touching as the abused wife in “The Jury” with the then-unknown Gerard Butler. I especially recall Dingwall and his moving relationship with his young daughter. Didn’t he incur the wrath of his father by declining to join the family business to become a photographer? And also the rebellious son who kept turning up–that must have been Andrew McTiernan. (I looked up the credits on IMDb.) As I said, it started to come back to me as I read. Still, there are many details I’ve forgotten. If this does indeed ever make it to Region 1 DVD, I must take another look.
I love this series and the book it came from. It stands up next to the work of Stephen Poliakoff. I have it on VHS, and have written to the BBC asking for a DVD release, but yes, the use of close ups and still images and the absolute feeling of nostalgia and loss is just amazing.
Almost everyone is the cast sparks a warm and positive feeling of recognition when I notice them in anything else. Ina Land of Plenty has stayed with me.
I love this series and the book it came from. It stands up next to the work of Stephen Poliakoff. I have it on VHS, and have written to the BBC asking for a DVD release, but yes, the use of close ups and still images and the absolute feeling of nostalgia and loss is just amazing.
Almost everyone is the cast sparks a warm and positive feeling of recognition when I notice them in anything else. In a Land of Plenty has stayed with me.
its a really great series/. the full 10 eps on youtube. u can download them and make your own discs.