This mini-series about the decline and fall of a tough, working class lad named Studs Lonigan is better than James T. Farrell's original novel. While Farrell was undoubtedly sincere in his attempt to expose the bigotry and hypocrisy of the rising Irish immigrant class of 1920's Chicago, his monotonous prose and bleak moral outlook prevented any of his characters from engaging the reader's sympathy. The miniseries preserves the tragic ending, but softens and humanizes Studs Lonigan's family and friends to a very considerable degree.
In the book version, Danny O'Neill, the sensitive lad who stands in for Farrell himself, is merely a casual acquaintance. Studs does not like him or respect him. In the mini-series, the two are close friends, and Danny cares for Studs' girlfriend after he is gone and provides a moving elegy to his fate. Similarly, the only Jewish kid in the gang, Davey Cohen, is treated badly by Studs in the novel, while in the mini-series the two remain loyal comrades to the very end. This indeed heightens the tragedy immeasurably, as Studs dies of pneumonia just after Davey has promised to hire him at his new factory. Watching the dying Studs sink slowly into the gutter, still holding aloft the dollar bill Davey has loaned him like a battle flag, is one of the most moving moments in the mini-series. In the book Studs' collapse is less poignant, since no one was trying to help him and he had no reason to keep on fighting.
In the book, Farrell tends to insist that everyone must be ground down and degraded by "the system," without any room for charm or luck, much less hard work and initiative. In the mini-series Studs falls, but many of his old friends succeed. Even Lucy Scanlan, the dream girl Studs worships from afar, proves to be surprisingly warm and engaging in the film version. At the end, when Studs is dying in the gutter, we see a brief glimpse of Lucy -- by now the pampered and well-protected wife of a very wealthy Irish attorney -- pausing to give a little money to a broken down street bum who looks a lot like Studs. Thus the end message is not so much that life is hateful and everyone is doomed, but that life goes on and kindness will triumph in the end.
All in all a fine NBC mini-series, from the days when network television meant something more than vulgar spectacles and reality TV.
In the book version, Danny O'Neill, the sensitive lad who stands in for Farrell himself, is merely a casual acquaintance. Studs does not like him or respect him. In the mini-series, the two are close friends, and Danny cares for Studs' girlfriend after he is gone and provides a moving elegy to his fate. Similarly, the only Jewish kid in the gang, Davey Cohen, is treated badly by Studs in the novel, while in the mini-series the two remain loyal comrades to the very end. This indeed heightens the tragedy immeasurably, as Studs dies of pneumonia just after Davey has promised to hire him at his new factory. Watching the dying Studs sink slowly into the gutter, still holding aloft the dollar bill Davey has loaned him like a battle flag, is one of the most moving moments in the mini-series. In the book Studs' collapse is less poignant, since no one was trying to help him and he had no reason to keep on fighting.
In the book, Farrell tends to insist that everyone must be ground down and degraded by "the system," without any room for charm or luck, much less hard work and initiative. In the mini-series Studs falls, but many of his old friends succeed. Even Lucy Scanlan, the dream girl Studs worships from afar, proves to be surprisingly warm and engaging in the film version. At the end, when Studs is dying in the gutter, we see a brief glimpse of Lucy -- by now the pampered and well-protected wife of a very wealthy Irish attorney -- pausing to give a little money to a broken down street bum who looks a lot like Studs. Thus the end message is not so much that life is hateful and everyone is doomed, but that life goes on and kindness will triumph in the end.
All in all a fine NBC mini-series, from the days when network television meant something more than vulgar spectacles and reality TV.