Posts Tagged ‘Northern Lights’

His Dark Materials: series 2

December 21, 2020

Last night saw the final episode of the second TV series based on Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials. It was something I’d looked forward to all year, and it did not disappoint, although apparently COVID prevented the filming of one stand-alone episode, I read somewhere: I hope we get this eventually! In fact, it was some of the best TV I’ve watched in years, all things considered.

The special effects are superbly done, so well that everything about the parallel universes feels quite natural. More work seemed to have been done on the daemons in this series, and they were very effective. Casting was strong: the creepy leaders of the Magisterium, with their sinister daemons; Mrs Coulter and her perverted relationship with her daemon underlining her conflicted but ultimately evil nature; Will and Lyra’s companionship and development of trust I found utterly convincing.

The screenplay is adapted from three long and complex novels, and whereas in the first series they stuck to The Northern Lights, in this series elements from both the second and third books have been introduced and carefully interwoven; it’s clear that in the translation from novel to screen changes and simplifications were going to be required, but the strong characters and the essential plot-lines have been retained, and developed effectively.

Conceptually, Pullman’s key ideas are well-anchored; the idea of dust has been clearly explained, the link to original sin brought out, and the innocence and experience/ Adam and Eve element of the Will and Lyra pairing was made evident in the final episode. These ideas are crucial to the novels and obviously fully explained in them, but it’s to the scriptwriters’ credit that they have neither laboured these ideas nor written them out of the plot.

So, what have I particularly noticed and liked about this series? The development of Mrs Coulter’s character has been really well done, and through the use of the monkey daemon the aspects of a person’s nature or soul that the daemon represents becomes very clear. She is conflicted in her relationship with her daughter: maternal instinct crosses a sense of philosophical or religious conviction of what is right and wrong, and this torment has a long way to go yet.

The relationship between Will and his father has been forefronted, at least compared with my recollection of the novels, and this is a welcome development. On screen I have experienced a much clearer picture of a boy on the cusp of adulthood wrestling with all kinds of inner demons. Mary Malone has been an interesting character thus far, and I shall be very interested to see what the scriptwriters do with her in the next series. Her spiritual side is important: we’ve had a single brief reference to her being an ex-nun, and the casting of the I-Ching has been shown several times.

I will be intrigued to see how both the scriptwriters and the SFX people cope with creating and making the mulefa work; they are crucial to the story and yet are surely the creatures furthest removed from familiarity in Pullman’s text. Equally, how the replay of Armageddon will be performed… lots of opportunity for spectacular effects, but how much of the significance of the battle can be conveyed? Even in the book I felt that some of this was a little unclear.

But, in this weirdest of years, I am grateful to have been so fully and grippingly entertained for seven consecutive Sunday evenings, and I can’t wait for the next series…

***You can read my review of the first series here

Recommended Reading?

February 28, 2014

I’ve been thinking about where I get my ideas from, about what to read: who shapes/ has shaped my choices over the years? I’m particularly thinking about fiction, since it’s more straight-forward with non-fiction: when new interests develop, then wider reading ensues…

Obviously, studying English and French literature at university all those years ago gave me a lot of different starting points, and I was inevitably going to branch out along some of the tracks I’d studied.

In my earlier years, I used to browse bookshops a lot, especially independent and radical bookshops, of which there were far more then. I could not begin to count the number of books I bought after spending hours in the wonderful Atticus Bookshop in Liverpool, with its vast array of contemporary English and America fiction as well as an amazing selection of works in translation. Nowadays I find bookshops frustrating, and rarely come across anything new or exciting. But I do scour bookshops when I’m in France, because so many more interesting novels from all over the world are translated into French than into English. New discoveries still come to light – the novels of Amin Maalouf, for example, or the full range of Ismail Kadare.

When I come across a new writer whom I enjoy, there’s the temptation to seek out all they’ve written; this can be rewarding, as in the case of Josef Skvorecky, or it can be somewhat disappointing, if a writer has basically written only one decent novel, or the same one several times over.

Book reviews can be a great help. I trust reviews in newspapers such as The Guardian and The Observer; reviewers like Nicholas Lezard or the critic James Wood have often introduced me to a new writer. Good also are the London, and the New York Review of Books. (To this last, I’m very grateful for introducing me to the writings and analysis of Timothy Snyder on the incredibly complex history of eastern Europe’s borderlands.) For non-English fiction, the reviews in Le Monde Diplomatique have pointed me in interesting directions. It’s great to come across someone totally new and unexpected, such as Ben Marcus, author of the weirdest book ever, The Age of Wire and String.

Sometimes a brilliant TV adaptation makes me turn to the book. Some may remember the BBC black and white serialisation of Sartre‘s Roads to Freedom trilogy in the early 1970s (lost for ever, I fear) which led me to the novels, or the superb version of Anthony Powell‘s Dance to the Music of Time, which led me to read the twelve novels.

Personal recommendations are usually the best. I inevitably find myself staring at the bookshelves when I visit someone, and ask about anything that excites my curiosity. That’s how I came across Umberto Eco – and I can’t imagine a reading life without his books. A teaching colleague many years ago raved about Bulgakov‘s Master and Margarita, and now I do too; my daughter turned me on to Philip Pullman‘s Northern Lights trilogy when I was ill once; the school librarian introduced me to Philip Reeve‘s books (and ultimately to the author himself)… and  one of my students introduced me to the poetry of e e cummings, which I never expected to like, but really did.

But mostly, I guess, I’m self-taught: I follow my nose, usually successfully, and add another book to the groaning shelves, or the to read pile by the bed. There have been wrong choices, and books and authors I’ve totally failed with, but that’s the subject of another post…

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