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Bilibin (Rory Keenan) and Helene Kuragin (Tuppence Middleton). Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC/Laurie Sparham
Russian pedant’s corner
The poor Russian pedant (not that I’m identifying with this mythical person …) must have had their head in their hands during the folk-singing scenes. Dolokhov’s was bad. But Natasha’s and Nikolai’s was even worse. Why did they do this? It was a mistake.
No actor wants to learn to sing a song in Russian when their character has been speaking in English the whole time. It didn’t add to the flavour of the piece and was painful to listen to. I can’t imagine the Italian bit (with Natasha and Sonya on the balcony) was much better (I don’t speak Italian) but that’s not so important: Natasha and Sonya are not Italian so it would be fine if they sang in strongly-accented Italian. It’s not fine to sing in Rada-accented Russian.
Not their fault, of course. And well done for trying. But don’t do it again.
War and Peace recap episode four: doom with a view
Opportunity knocks for Boris, Anatole makes a play for Natasha and Nikolai tries to do the right thing as Tolstoy’s epic continues
Viv Groskop
@vivgroskop
Sun 24 Jan 2016 22.00 GMTLast modified on Fri 12 Oct 2018 22.11 BST
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Snow white: Lily James as Natasha Rostov. Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC
‘I shall come to you as soon as I arrive in Moscow’
Oh dear, oh dear. It’s all taken a very wrong turn. Emotionally, I mean. (Poor Prince Andrei and his forever opening-and-closing Austerlitz wound!) Narratively, directorially and aesthetically everything is still on top form. The strands are slowing coming together and it’s all rising to fever pitch.
War and Peace recap: episode three - fifty shades of Freemasons!
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The Russian doom of this episode was most pleasing. It wouldn’t do to mix up our novels too much but, really, this is the part of War and Peace that is most like Anna Karenina, designed by Tolstoy to showcase The Inevitable Ruination of Women, Even The Seemingly Good Ones (Because Ultimately All Women Are Evil).
Andrew Davies (screenwriter) has drawn this out cleverly: Tolstoy loves premonitions and portentous foreshadowing. In this episode, these signs were everywhere, with Natasha doing the reckless Gypsy dancing and seeing the wolf and Sonya in the haunted barn.
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Country life: Natasha rides on. Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC
Lily James did a fantastic job of portraying Natasha’s confused state of mind. It’s not an easy leap to make, this, as it seems to contradict everything we know about Natasha, who has been fairly child-like up until this point. I wasn’t so entirely convinced by the portrayal of Anatole (Callum Turner). Beware the creepy, gloved hand of creepy, bullying Anatole, Natasha! Be strong!
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Anatole has been fabulously evil. But at this moment in the story he needs to show some quality that would attract and not repel Natasha. I’m not sure he did. We need to be shouting “DON’T DO IT, NATASHA” while understanding why she is strangely compelled to do it, and is not just a very silly girl. Because she needs to remain the heroine. Still, it was beautifully shot, with all those predatory glances around the coat hooks.
There was some superb humour this week to contrast with the high drama. The scene between the calculatingly opportunistic Boris (Aneurin Barnard) and oh-so-fragile, saucer-eyed drama queen Julie Karagina (Chloe Pirrie) was beautifully played. (Note: Karagina is not to be confused with Kuragina – she is nothing to do with The Evil Siblings. You’d think Tolstoy would find another name, but anyway … I suppose he was quite busy.)
Was there something a bit too Britishly embarrassed in the scenes between Natasha and Andrei’s family? Probably. But there are so many great scenes that any minor flaws are swept away. It was fascinating to see Rebecca Front wring every drop of nuance and wit out of her lines: “Of course … you haven’t heard! He’s the accepted suitor!” And I loved Ade Edmondson’s brilliant portrayal of total denial of reality when it comes to the state of his finances: “This is what we need! Forget our troubles and get out to see the real Old Russia!” An excellent description of the effect of this series on Austerity Britain.
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Anna Mikhailovna (Rebecca Front), Julie Karagina (Chloe Pirrie) and Boris (Aneurin Barnard). Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC
Those all-important Mr Darcy moments
Now that we’re on episode four, I think it’s safe to set the “Mr Darcy” comparisons to one side for now, especially as Prince Andrei seems to have been thrown over. We can’t possibly anoint Anatole as the new Darcy, as he’s too evil. As is Boris. And Nikolai, despite eventually doing the right thing and pronouncing his love for Sonya, is too weak. If only he had married Julie Karagina and saved the family’s finances and carried on with Sonya on the side!
Pierre had a shout at some Darcy moments tonight. But he appears to have been on the pies and vodka in secret. So he can yell, “If I find you in Moscow after midnight tonight, I will kill you!” all he wants, but he hasn’t attained hero status yet.
Of course, if this were a mini-series and not an adaptation of the most admired novel in history then there would have been more Dolokhov and Denisov in this episode, for a touch of Lord Flashheart appeal (Rik Mayall’s character in Blackadder) and some light relief. But you can’t have everything, can you?
I did, however, particularly enjoy this line: “Why is he dressed like a Persian?” If you’re Dolokhov, you can dress however the hell you want.
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Super furry: Sonya (Aisling Loftus), Nikolai Rostov (Jack Lowden) and Natasha Rostov (Lily James). Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC
Villain of the week
It’s a toss-up between Anatole and Helene here. Clearly Anatole is masterfully wicked. But is Helene even more evil? I think she might be. Anatole wants his way with Natasha. But Helene wants more than that: she wants to see Natasha’s utter corruption and ruin (possibly so that she can feel better about herself) and she wants to know that she has had a hand in it. Helene was the one who put Natasha in the box at the theatre where she was captive and powerless to escape the gloved hand of evil.