Two young men have inadvertently given their lady-loves the mistaken impression their names are Ernest. The women idolize the name. What will happen when they learn the truth?
This heavily-truncated made-for-TV version of Oscar Wilde's masterpiece has much in its favor. And one or two things on its disfavor.
The 1952 film raised a pretty high bar acting-wise, especially in capturing Edith Evans' famous Lady Bracknell. This 1964 cast is nearly as stellar.
Ian Carmichael and Patrick McNee are both too old for their roles, though I tend to overlook these minor matters where actors are concerned. It's called acting, after all (in the film Michaels Redgrave and Denison were also too old and they were marvellous).
Carmichael is as close as I've seen to the consummate Worthing. Anyone aspiring to this role should study his performance and witness for himself how much business he can work in.
McNee seems less word-perfect, and indeed looks and sounds uncomfortable out of the starting gate. Perhaps that's my fault, seeing the impeccable "John Steed" playing the feckless Algernon. After a few early stumbles he grows into the part, however.
Fenella Fielding is a wonderful pick for Gwedolyn, though her performance is at times tight as a Victorian corset. Susannah York was never prettier than here; she would not be my pick for Cicely and it proves how my judgement may err. Though the whiff of some disparaging remarks she's quoted as saying in Ian Carmichael's biography lingers on, it doesn't affect her performance, to say nothing of the dog.
For Miss Prism and Canon Chasubel we're offered two genuine comedy icons, Irene Handl and Wilfred Bramble. I like my Prisms pixilated and Handl plays it less so; but that's her choice and she never drops the ball. Bramble, who can be devastating funny, does hardly any business at all and plays it nearly straight, letting Wilde shine through--though in the climactic scene his face observing events he's not fully privy to is funny enough.
The big disappointment is Pamela Brown's low-key Lady Bracknell. Lady Bracknell is the villain of the piece, but she must never be so silly she ceases to be a menacing; nor so menacing she ceases to be funny. It's a challenging role Brown takes too seriously as her gasping, whispered "A handbag?!" shows. If one word can be used as a yardstick of any classic performance, it's Lady Bracknell's "handbag." It may make or break an interpretation and for me it breaks Brown. Perhaps she's simply not old enough yet, as prior and subsequent Bracknells Edith Evans and Wendy Hiller prove. I'm sure each performer in a classic play wants to make it their own but I have to grade Brown as "could do better."
Often John Worthing's part suffers as he has to allow Algernon and the other players to get the chuckles while he anchors the piece. Here, Carmichael heads the feast of fools, proving Worthing can be delightfully funny on top of being the pillar that holds up the Wilde's big top, while the rest of this amazingly talented cast is more or less funny, as they choose, for the small screen.
This heavily-truncated made-for-TV version of Oscar Wilde's masterpiece has much in its favor. And one or two things on its disfavor.
The 1952 film raised a pretty high bar acting-wise, especially in capturing Edith Evans' famous Lady Bracknell. This 1964 cast is nearly as stellar.
Ian Carmichael and Patrick McNee are both too old for their roles, though I tend to overlook these minor matters where actors are concerned. It's called acting, after all (in the film Michaels Redgrave and Denison were also too old and they were marvellous).
Carmichael is as close as I've seen to the consummate Worthing. Anyone aspiring to this role should study his performance and witness for himself how much business he can work in.
McNee seems less word-perfect, and indeed looks and sounds uncomfortable out of the starting gate. Perhaps that's my fault, seeing the impeccable "John Steed" playing the feckless Algernon. After a few early stumbles he grows into the part, however.
Fenella Fielding is a wonderful pick for Gwedolyn, though her performance is at times tight as a Victorian corset. Susannah York was never prettier than here; she would not be my pick for Cicely and it proves how my judgement may err. Though the whiff of some disparaging remarks she's quoted as saying in Ian Carmichael's biography lingers on, it doesn't affect her performance, to say nothing of the dog.
For Miss Prism and Canon Chasubel we're offered two genuine comedy icons, Irene Handl and Wilfred Bramble. I like my Prisms pixilated and Handl plays it less so; but that's her choice and she never drops the ball. Bramble, who can be devastating funny, does hardly any business at all and plays it nearly straight, letting Wilde shine through--though in the climactic scene his face observing events he's not fully privy to is funny enough.
The big disappointment is Pamela Brown's low-key Lady Bracknell. Lady Bracknell is the villain of the piece, but she must never be so silly she ceases to be a menacing; nor so menacing she ceases to be funny. It's a challenging role Brown takes too seriously as her gasping, whispered "A handbag?!" shows. If one word can be used as a yardstick of any classic performance, it's Lady Bracknell's "handbag." It may make or break an interpretation and for me it breaks Brown. Perhaps she's simply not old enough yet, as prior and subsequent Bracknells Edith Evans and Wendy Hiller prove. I'm sure each performer in a classic play wants to make it their own but I have to grade Brown as "could do better."
Often John Worthing's part suffers as he has to allow Algernon and the other players to get the chuckles while he anchors the piece. Here, Carmichael heads the feast of fools, proving Worthing can be delightfully funny on top of being the pillar that holds up the Wilde's big top, while the rest of this amazingly talented cast is more or less funny, as they choose, for the small screen.