James Norton did a superb job here with a character who is not easy to portray: Prince Andrei is brooding, and we rarely get to hear his interior monologue. But that furrowed brow and quivering quiff said it all. “We’re getting cut to pieces …” “Nothing to do but enjoy it.” Bravo.
Runner-up Darcy? Dolokhov, of course! See how big his heart is! Petrushka saw it and so did we. (As all fans of the Russian pedant’s corner will know, Petrushka means “little Pierre”.) I would also like to put in a word for the man who popped his head out of his peasant’s hut to say: “Don’t mind me, I’ll just set fire to my own house to save the French the trouble.” Now that’s proper, self-destructive Russian heroism.
Villain of the week
Anatole: pathetic in life and pathetic while having his leg chopped off. (And what a heavy leg. Did you hear that thud as it hit the floor? Ouch.) This was a necessary comeuppance. He is superseded as supervillain by his father, Prince Kuragin, doing what he does best: wheedling and whining and wincing, over champagne and caviar at the salon of Anna Pavlovna (Gillian Anderson). Stephen Rea made a wonderful re-appearance here just when we needed him to show the distance between layers of society in Russia and the sheer cynicism displayed by the aristocracy: “We shall all have to brush up on our French again …”
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Truly memorable: Jessie Buckley as Princess Marya. Photograph: Robert Viglasky/BBC
Audrey Hepburn award for most beautiful lady acting
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Jessie Buckley as Princess Marya really is a marvel. If anyone deserves a happy ending, it’s Marya. Buckley has managed to bring out everything possible in this minor character and push her to the heart of things. It’s a truly memorable performance. It’s not easy to portray a soppy, religious-obsessed, spinster-in-waiting and make her seem noble, righteous and lovable. But she has done it.
Russian pedant’s corner
There was so much going on this week that I could find little to trouble the Russian pedant. (I know. There must be something wrong with me. I need a reviving draught of some kind.) So instead I will offer some observations from historian Simon Schama, possibly the world’s biggest fan of the novel of War and Peace and not the greatest fan of this TV adaptation.
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We have been tweeting. He is annoyed that at the dinner party where Pierre challenged Dolokhov, we did not hear Helene’s corset creak. Another moment was omitted when “the bored, lonely Natasha pointlessly calls for a rooster and then forgets”. And he did not like the throwaway depiction of the comet in last week’s episode. (It was at the beginning – blink and you’d miss it. It’s the most important page in the novel, he says. Indeed it’s “one of the greatest pages in any novel”.) Russian pedants of the world, consider yourself bested.
For me, this week the only thing that made me wince was Pierre calling Natasha “Tasha” (not something anyone does in Russian). But I’ve already moaned about that, so I’ll shut up.
This article was amended on Monday 1 February: it originally read that Pierre challenged Anatole, when it should have read Dolokhov.
War and Peace recap: episode six – bows out with a bonkers beard
The coincidences continue to come thick and fast as Pierre tries to be heroic, Natasha and Andrei are reunited and the villains get their comeuppance. But didn’t it end well?
Viv Groskop
@vivgroskop
Mon 8 Feb 2016 07.51 GMTFirst published on Sun 7 Feb 2016 22.20 GMT
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Pierre and his new best friend: who says owners don’t look like their dogs? Photograph: Laurie Sparham/BBC
‘I know I’ve been a clown and wasted my life …’
No! It’s all over! Bring them back! Make Pierre regrow his bonkers prisoner beard! Make Sonya and Denisov get it on at a mazurka party! Bring Helene back to life and let’s see what a terrible mother she would have made! I can’t believe it’s over. But didn’t it end well? Setting aside the ridiculousness of Nikolai’s Duran Duran hair and peasant costume in the final “bucolic idyll at the dacha” bit. Where none of the actors looked a day older than episode one despite the passing of 15 years.
Did they have to race to fit it all in? Da. Was there a lot of messing around with the novel to make that happen? Da. Was it a travesty? Nyet. Screenwriter Andrew Davies, director Tom Harper and the entire cast can hold their heads high as the final, almost-feature-length episode upheld the standards they have established from the outset: classy, sensitive, lavish, memorable.
Best plot point of the last episode? Pierre’s attempts at heroism. “There’s something I have to do. Something terrible. Kill Napoleon.” Oh, Pierre. The only thing you’re good at killing is time, you great lummox. And don’t go into the burning building! Pierre, your destiny is not to assassinate Napoleon. Your destiny is to flail around like a loon, go gaga over Natasha and make profound statements about old men’s dogs.
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Once again we had the collision of a gazillion coincidences, which are obviously so much more subtle in the novel (because they’re spread apart by many, many, many pages). Of all the millions of residents in Moscow, who’s this Natasha spots from her carriage in a split second? Why, it’s Pierre! Out of tens of thousands of soldiers, which French regiment does Dolokhov happen to attack? Why, the one holding Pierre prisoner! And in a country spanning an eighth of the world’s land mass and 6.5m square miles, to whose rural retreat is Prince Andrei conveyed? Why, Natasha’s, of course!
To mention all this, though, is rather like picking vshy (nits) out of Pierre’s prisoner beard. Because without these novelistic “moments of fate”, there would be no War and Peace at all. No matter, then. This was great television. The Frenchman who misguidedly recognised in Pierre a fellow Lover of Many Women. Helene with her blood-soaked gown. Ade Edmondson as Ilya, regal and hopeless in his coffin.
The message? Beautifully conveyed via Pierre via the man with the dog. “He never worried. He took pleasure in the good things and endured the bad things cheerfully. So now I’m trying to live like him. Is that ridiculous?” No, Pierre. Not at all. (What is ridiculous, my friend, is walking around the Battle of Borodino saying, “Excuse me, do you require any assistance? Please don’t let me get in your way.”)