Yes, I did nearly write Desperate Housewives. Though it's hard to think of a show more different.
Normally, historical dramas bore me. They're either simply too stuffy to be really called drama or they try to make the era in question seem too cool, to have too much swash-and-buckle. So, admittedly, I didn't sit down to watch the BBC's new 19th-century drama, documenting the arduous lives of the new Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, with the most open of minds. I also didn't sit down alone- my clasicist mother and cynic father were both next to me, so between us I think we held a great enough spread of opinions to shine some sort of light on the proceedings.
The first comment to come from my parents, then, was on the costume- "Fabulous waistcoats" adorn all three of the Pre-Raphaelites, particularly Gabriel Dante Rosetti (Aidan Turner). This particular artist also seems to have been handed the long stick in terms of one-liners, and it's clear to see who the Ladies' Man of the group is set to be for the whole rest of the series. Turner, last seen in BBC 3's slightly too dark Being Human, here returns as the dark-haired lothario painter named in the early few minutes of the opening set-up monologue as the leader of the group. Though such a position isn't entirely enviable- he leads John Millais (Samuel Barnett), a graduate of the Royal Academy of Art and a child prodigy, and the sexless William Hunt (Rafe Spall - any relation to Timathy?), who have all sworn to shake up the art world with a more naturalistic style of painting.
All they need to do, it seems, is convince the critic and collector John Ruskin (Tom Hollander, of Pirates of the Caribbean 2 & 3 fame) of their worth, and they might just have a chance on the art scene. And, along with new model Lizzie Siddal (Amy Manson), this just might be possible. It remains to be seen whether audiences will find the artists' struggle as compelling as they should for such a drama to continue, but I found that some of the excitement needed a little more explaining, and the world expanding a little- we see the central cast an awful lot, and they seem to be awfully contained in their own little world without much input from anyone but the critics themselves.
By the end, I couldn't quite decide which end of the Historical Drama spectrum Desperate Romantics fell into- was it too desperate, or simply not desperate enough? Or perhaps somewhere in between? After a little of an unconvincing start, dialogue became compelling and, when Rosetti was involved, simply funny. A few chuckles could even be heard from the Cynic that is my father, and historical accuracy got a few nods of approval from the Clasicist in the room, while I was compelled by the slightly obscure Who's That? moments so common to british dramas, including a guest appearance from Mark Heap as Charles Dickens and the tantalysing identity of Ruskin's wife, who I am yet to track down.
Perhaps a little desperate. Perhaps a little too under-stated- the BBC Press Office described the trio of artists as "a vagabond group of English painters, poets and critics", who surely should be far more Byronic than they have so far appeared. Though the amount of nudity (always female) shows an attempt to make up for this in some way, the three painters have been proven to be Mad (briefly and containedly), perhaps a little Bad, but not yet Dangerous to be with.
Normally, historical dramas bore me. They're either simply too stuffy to be really called drama or they try to make the era in question seem too cool, to have too much swash-and-buckle. So, admittedly, I didn't sit down to watch the BBC's new 19th-century drama, documenting the arduous lives of the new Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, with the most open of minds. I also didn't sit down alone- my clasicist mother and cynic father were both next to me, so between us I think we held a great enough spread of opinions to shine some sort of light on the proceedings.
The first comment to come from my parents, then, was on the costume- "Fabulous waistcoats" adorn all three of the Pre-Raphaelites, particularly Gabriel Dante Rosetti (Aidan Turner). This particular artist also seems to have been handed the long stick in terms of one-liners, and it's clear to see who the Ladies' Man of the group is set to be for the whole rest of the series. Turner, last seen in BBC 3's slightly too dark Being Human, here returns as the dark-haired lothario painter named in the early few minutes of the opening set-up monologue as the leader of the group. Though such a position isn't entirely enviable- he leads John Millais (Samuel Barnett), a graduate of the Royal Academy of Art and a child prodigy, and the sexless William Hunt (Rafe Spall - any relation to Timathy?), who have all sworn to shake up the art world with a more naturalistic style of painting.
All they need to do, it seems, is convince the critic and collector John Ruskin (Tom Hollander, of Pirates of the Caribbean 2 & 3 fame) of their worth, and they might just have a chance on the art scene. And, along with new model Lizzie Siddal (Amy Manson), this just might be possible. It remains to be seen whether audiences will find the artists' struggle as compelling as they should for such a drama to continue, but I found that some of the excitement needed a little more explaining, and the world expanding a little- we see the central cast an awful lot, and they seem to be awfully contained in their own little world without much input from anyone but the critics themselves.
By the end, I couldn't quite decide which end of the Historical Drama spectrum Desperate Romantics fell into- was it too desperate, or simply not desperate enough? Or perhaps somewhere in between? After a little of an unconvincing start, dialogue became compelling and, when Rosetti was involved, simply funny. A few chuckles could even be heard from the Cynic that is my father, and historical accuracy got a few nods of approval from the Clasicist in the room, while I was compelled by the slightly obscure Who's That? moments so common to british dramas, including a guest appearance from Mark Heap as Charles Dickens and the tantalysing identity of Ruskin's wife, who I am yet to track down.
Perhaps a little desperate. Perhaps a little too under-stated- the BBC Press Office described the trio of artists as "a vagabond group of English painters, poets and critics", who surely should be far more Byronic than they have so far appeared. Though the amount of nudity (always female) shows an attempt to make up for this in some way, the three painters have been proven to be Mad (briefly and containedly), perhaps a little Bad, but not yet Dangerous to be with.
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