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I HAVE for long had a sneaking sympathy,
furtive affection and covert admiration for literary villains. From out
of the cultural closet, I can claim that Soames Forsyte, solicitor, man
of property, epitome of upper middle-class Edwardian England and art
connoisseur, is a good egg, if a little cracked, for marrying Irene,
portrayed on ITV’s Forsyte Saga by Gina McKee whose features suggest an
Aintree favourite peering over a paddock fence. Emotionally, she is like
an unmelting splinter of the Antarctic ice-cap.
Face the John Galsworthy facts and consider the evidence of the
television serial. Even the most biased viewer or reader of the three
novels that mainly recount the story of a family where boardroom
victories are eroded by bedroom defeats, will, I hope, feel some empathy
for a man, wearing the purple of the legal profession and revelling in
its riches who cannot conjure up even the ghost of a smile from a wife
who treats him as if he were something seen wriggling unpleasantly under
a microscope.
Granted Damian Lewis, as the repressed Soames, is no oil
painting, his face suggesting at times a muzzled wolverine or, in rare
moments of repose, a pale, Turnerish, watery sun. But then nobody is
perfect, and when he comes home after a hard day dealing with torts and
malfeasances, he could surely, even within the narrowest limits of
marital rights, expect the occasional nod of smiling recognition and
some words of welcome that do not sound like the result of complicated
excavating machinery delivered at the pithead from a wife who, although
she married him reluctantly and wears, along with fashionable apparel,
the expression of a suffering saint, has taken full advantage of the
good life.
The rape scene? I can hardly believe it happened. I expected the
clash of titans, with Irene delivering in defence the swift right cross
to the jaw that she had demonstrated earlier towards an incensed female
relative, and not what appeared to be sad, even vulgar horseplay. It was
a caddish act by Soames, but when seen in the context of Irene lolling
on a lewd love bed with her designing architect friend, perhaps
forgivable.
Soames would, I suspect, be Tory and could have stood for
Parliament when not engaged in doubling his doubloons. He might have
made a good modern Chancellor of the Exchequer with his materialistic
qualities mingling with sudden passionate actions resulting in him
slipping stealthily between the national balance sheets and carrying out
a violent and unexpected rape of pensions and savings.
For a juicier villain, give me Shakespeare’s Iago, the trusted
aide-de-camp of Othello. Here is a character who, in a government
spin-doctoring team, could, with whispers, asides and unattributed
information, all delivered with spiked subtlety and silken wit, have
briefed against Mo Mowlam, sunk Keith Vaz without a trace, sent the
Hinduja brothers into economic oblivion and Peter Mandelson packing as
ambassador to Ulan Bator. A likely favourite at No 10 parties, and a
hoot on Have I Got News For You, such a character is badly needed today.
I have a soft spot in my head if not my heart for Goneril and
Regan, King Lear’s proto-feminist daughters. With the problems of a
divided kingdom to run and with old daddy losing his monarchial marbles,
suffering from wind and with his reign gone west, life for two
ambitious, pragmatic, pin-sharp and land-reform-focused females would
never be easy. Today, they would be tension-thriving, high-flying heads
of globalised companies in which employees, in new budget-trimming
requirements, could come low on a valuable assets’ list, next to
paper-clips.
Richard III, a traditional bad hat, I regard as another good,
though 15-minute, egg. Under his yolk, England prospered and if he had a
short, sharp way with kingly rivals, it was only different in degree to
today’s boardroom battles. "I can add colours to the chameleon, change
shape with Proteus for advantages, and set the murderous Machiavel to
school." With minor alterations to these claims, he sounds a typical
advertising agency executive who could produce deathless slogans like,
"Don’t forget the fruit gums, mum", and, "You’ll look a little lovelier
each day with fabulous pink Camay."
Coming soon; the rehabilitation of Shylock, Heathcliff, Rebecca
de Winter, Count Dracula and Mr Hyde. Meanwhile, there’s no place like
Soames. |
