The Baroness made a living penning the Scarlet Pimpernel’s adventures, and even before her death in 1947 she watched as others began to tap into her little cash cow. IMDb.com lists ten versions of the story, the most well known probably being the 1934 film (which is on my hit list) and the 1982 TV production, and now this, the 1999 mini-series by A&E and the BBC.
I’ll actually only be reviewing “Book 1” of the miniseries, not being inclined to see the rest. The purchase links listed by epinions are similarly associated with Book 1, and it’s generally sold separately.
For those not familiar with the premise, it’s that a British nobleman tires of seeing his French counterparts guillotined unjustly by the new French government and organizes a secret league of spies and tricksters to rescue as many as he can. In gallant fashion, of course. And what better cover than to act as unheroic as possible in public, hence the foppish affections.
This version begins with Percy, the S-Pimp, already married to the legendary French actress (and one-time revolutionary) Marguerite. Indeed, this version starts so deeply into the tale that Percy has long been aware that his now-wife had at one time caused the execution of some old acquaintances of his. Depressed and somewhat concerned for his continued secrecy, Percy gives her the cold shoulder. Meanwhile, Chauvelin, the French chief of secret police (or something along those lines), is becoming supremely vexed. He wins permission to pursue his hunt in England, where he solicits his old friend Marguerite’s aid by having her brother imprisoned.
Not suspecting her husband, Marguerite loathingly complies. But once Percy and Chauvelin have each returned to France she realizes her mistake and follows them. Soon it seems Chauvelin has them both right where he wants them.
Major Players
Richard E. Grant is Sir Percy Blakeney, The Scarlet Pimpernel, or at least a droll version of the character. His countenance is dark in this film, and so is his humor. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Grant did well in the role. Unfortunately the role bordered on unrecognizable for me. Instead of costumes the Pimpernel relies on lock-picking tools and hidden weapons. Unchivalrously he sneaks up behind foes and slits their throats. His foppery often falls by the wayside and he’s entirely masculine. His mirth is biting, bitter. He insults people vigorously as opposed to playfully. This is a Pimpernel who only encourages a member of his League in the debaucheries of a house of ill repute. And in the end his victory comes not through a surprising twist, but in a hail of bullets. Hardly the dashing-but-silly romantic hero of our expectations.
Elizabeth McGovern, as Lady Marguerite Blakeney, is rather stoic. That’s to be understood since, from the beginning of this movie version she’s on the outs with her husband. Her powers of deduction operate dubiously fast when convenient. McGovern’s portrayal is bland overall, unconvincing in suffering, and only slightly better in love. Strangely, she reminded me of a chubbier Liv Tyler. Not a good or a bad thing.
Martin Shaw, as Paul(?) Chauvelin, succeeds in conveying the anger and pride and plotting of the character. His drive is convincing. But an otherwise respectable performance is marred by two factors. First, the great king of all mullets rests on his head. This is a vibrant, fluffy creature, undoubtedly teased within a snarling inch of its life and drowned in hairspray. Unfortunately, this graying mane only compounds the second problem. Unlike an Ian McKellan, Shaw is unable to complicate his ruthlessly ambitious Chauvelin with credible love for Marguerite. Instead, his lust-bound hankerings seem out of place.
Emilia Fox , as Minette, is a mystery. She seems to have been invented by Richard Carpenter (screenwriter) for this production and is, among other things, a distortion of Marguerite’s understudy. She also fraternizes with the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel. But this hot little trollop, who only covers her short blond hair with a wig when performing, has her fingers in more than one pie. Fox’s performance is adequate, becoming less impressive once the cat’s out of the bag.
Mood and Tone
The mood of this production is a great strength, exhibiting all the period atmosphere that has come to be expected of the BBC. There is darkness and dirt and smoky lights. The costuming is exquisite, as are the sets and the locations in the Czech Republic.
But it’s the tone the moviemakers take that is the ultimate downfall of the production. The French are too often represented as an inhuman mob, certainly a temptation when depicting the revolution, but a simplism nonetheless. It’s this sort of grittiness that permeates the film. The reinterpretation of Percy’s character is the foremost cause. He’s rarely comic or romantic in this version. He’s instead resolute, unscrupulous. Similarly, Chauvelin retains no chivalry here, and when one of the Pimpernel’s men is taken captive Chauvelin spontaneously shoots him in the head out of frustration (about which the S-Pimp merely says “He knew the risks,” so much for noblesse oblige). The scene in the house of ill repute is also characteristic of this thrust toward ‘realism’ (though the painter and tailor characters are entertaining, as is Robespierre), so too is the entire character of Minette.
Recommendation
It would seem the point of all this is to recast the story in a serious light—like a typical modern tale where depictions of dynamically conflicted characters and depravity are necessary for credibility. While it is true that the characters take on depths and complexities of motives here that no other version may represent, the fact remains that this is the Scarlet Pimpernel we’re talking about, and attempts to make it a ‘challenging’ film are only out of place.
While there is little technically wrong with the movie (though there is marked choppiness at times, e.g. Minette’s final scene), its makers have tried to bend their tale into a shape it cannot hold. After all, this is no Tale of Two Cities or Les Miserables. And ultimately, the Scarlet Pimpernel holds a place in the popular imagination precisely because it can stand in contrast to such works. The 1982 version with Anthony Andrews, Jane Seymour and Ian McKellen accomplishes this much better.
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