The Golden Bowl

Henry James is not one of my favorite authors to read, but he's one whose works I enjoy through either movies or miniseries, as is the case with "The Golden Bowl".

While I feel the whole story could have related in 4 episodes instead of 6, I still enjoyed watching it, one of the reasons being Jill Townsend (Maggie), who has a way of acting both with her voice and her eyes, that expresses her emotions without going overboard. Even when angry, she never overdoes it.

I also liked having the narrator (Cyril Cusack) also be a part of the story, and the symbolism of the golden bowl, almost forgotten until near the end, had the perfect subtle impact.

Despite their behavior, you still couldn't help feeling sympathy for Charlotte and Prince Amerigo (Gayle Hunnicutt and Daniel Massey), though you can't help but feel that, had they been free from the start to be together, the rosy picture of romance would probably have faded. And had Maggie and her father (Barry Morse) not been so close, keeping everyone else at a distance (whether aware of it or not), Charlotte might have been more content with the choice she made, and Amerigo may have realized sooner that there was more to Maggie than he thought.

The best part of this story is the way Maggie's character develops from a daddy's girl to a happy bride, then a loving wife and mother as well as a devoted daughter with a best friend for a stepmother, to a mature woman, disillusioned, her romantic blinders fallen, as she views the real scene, but determined to keep as much of the former landscape as possible, in whatever way she can.

Worth watching.

This is a genial-enough comment, from a lifetime (up till now, anyway) of reading Mr J and being long used to his floating ways with the language. Back when this miniseries was running, my father, who was a good man interested in the world around him but no longer much of a fiction reader--when he was a young fellow, he was earnestly taken by George Eliot--sat down to watch The Golden Bowl and submit to a barrage of Jamesian commentary and sideways talk. After the fourth episode he suddenly stood up, said This is too damned silly! and retired to his study. I knew what he meant; I kept on watching. So it goes.

Alistair Cooke, in introducing a re-broadcast of this six-hour series, called it the finest ever shown on Masterpiece Theater, and he'll get no argument from me: it was superb. I quite agree with my fellow commentor's perception that it was the slow unfolding over six hours that made the material mesmerize (the novel is very long too), so I share his concern about the Merchant/Ivory production, but I suppose we'll see. In any case, do not miss this version if you get the chance to view it. Following James's subtle analysis of human motivations is, Cooke memorably said, like "entering the mind of Sigmund Freud," and the greatest compliment I can pay this adaptation is that it does justice to that subtlety. I find the performances excellent, too (whatever happened to Gayle Hunnicutt, who shows such talent here?). And there's a memorable use of Ravel on the soundtrack.

If you find reading Henry James tedious for his endlessly spun-out and inconsequential sentences, you need not fear. This production is subtly habit-forming throughout its inveigling four episodes. Especially, as other reviewers have commented, for everything that is not said in the text. Perhaps not too sinister, by contemporary standards, it nevertheless treats infidelity, not simply as an extracurricular activity for the lazy rich, but also as a labyrinth of quiet deceptions and undercurrents running through 19th century propriety, presented in a suave and 'delicate' manner. I watched all the episodes several times, sometimes twice in one evening. You too, perhaps, when you 'get caught' by the disquieting and ominous dialogues wafting from scene to scene.

One of the most riveting productions I have ever seen on television, The Golden Bowl encapsulates a story of wicked romance and deception amongst Britain's 19th century upper classes with an atmosphere so sinister, I could not but marvel at the actors' ability to create such social realism on the screen. Gayle Hunnicutt's Charlotte is so devious and contemptible in her characterisation of a seductress with such love of intrigue and slippery guile and silent contempt for her associates, one can almost hate her in real life! Upper-classes, playing with life and a marvelous opportunity for the literary dialectical materialist's interpretation in any university seminar group. I will never forget the dimminishing light surrounding Maggie as she sits alone in frozen bewilderment - effected by a gradually dimming studio light - slowly putting together the web of deceit that has surrounded her. Terrific drama! First rate!