It's impossible to watch this TV program without comparing it to Billy Wilder's 1957 version, and both are of professional caliber.
If Wilder's is the better iteration (out of a total of five or so) it's partly because of its bigger budget. This sticks closer to the play or so I'd guess. There are only three fully developed sets, whereas Wilder could take us to a knockabout pub, a wreck of Hamburg, and the murder victim's kitchen where a nervous Tyrone Power demonstrated a double egg beater.
The 1957 version was also chipper, which this one isn't. Wilder put more emphasis on Sir Wilfred Brimley's preadolescent naughtiness, sneaking cigars and brandy like a child. Ralph Richardson, as Sir Wilfred, who handles the defense of Leonard Vole (Beau Bridges) is sly enough but slow and some of the energy is drained from the narrative. Nor is Diana Rigg, with whom I was deeply in love, quite as authentically nasty as Marlene Dietrich, and her German accent is almost bleached out. Even Wendy Hiller, superb actress, isn't the equal of Una O'Connor as the housekeeper, Mrs. Jackson. Just compare their delivery of one word in response to a judge's inquiry: "Why?" O'Connor snaps it fiercely back as a challenge at His Honor, while Hiller's sounds like a puzzled query.
None of this is to put down this presentation. It's all done smoothly, despite Beau Bridges not being the actor Tyrone Power was, and not being allowed by the director to ham it up quite so deliciously. You may think me an insensitive bulb for preferring Power's operatic performance. Well, I am but that's not the point.
The ending is the weakest part. I don't mind the surprise involving Vole and his wife Christine. But the "honey blond" pops out of nowhere like a Jill in the Box and is clearly only there to see that justice is served.
No reason to miss it though. It's a damned good story.
If Wilder's is the better iteration (out of a total of five or so) it's partly because of its bigger budget. This sticks closer to the play or so I'd guess. There are only three fully developed sets, whereas Wilder could take us to a knockabout pub, a wreck of Hamburg, and the murder victim's kitchen where a nervous Tyrone Power demonstrated a double egg beater.
The 1957 version was also chipper, which this one isn't. Wilder put more emphasis on Sir Wilfred Brimley's preadolescent naughtiness, sneaking cigars and brandy like a child. Ralph Richardson, as Sir Wilfred, who handles the defense of Leonard Vole (Beau Bridges) is sly enough but slow and some of the energy is drained from the narrative. Nor is Diana Rigg, with whom I was deeply in love, quite as authentically nasty as Marlene Dietrich, and her German accent is almost bleached out. Even Wendy Hiller, superb actress, isn't the equal of Una O'Connor as the housekeeper, Mrs. Jackson. Just compare their delivery of one word in response to a judge's inquiry: "Why?" O'Connor snaps it fiercely back as a challenge at His Honor, while Hiller's sounds like a puzzled query.
None of this is to put down this presentation. It's all done smoothly, despite Beau Bridges not being the actor Tyrone Power was, and not being allowed by the director to ham it up quite so deliciously. You may think me an insensitive bulb for preferring Power's operatic performance. Well, I am but that's not the point.
The ending is the weakest part. I don't mind the surprise involving Vole and his wife Christine. But the "honey blond" pops out of nowhere like a Jill in the Box and is clearly only there to see that justice is served.
No reason to miss it though. It's a damned good story.