 
|
DVD: Rumpole of the Bailey
Seasons 1 & 2/3 &4 (2 box sets, 9 DVDs)
Reviewed by DJ Johnson
This was a brand new discovery for me. I'd heard of Rumpole, John Mortimer's grizzled old barrister, but had never come across the program itself. I can't speak to the accuracy of the portrayals by these wonderful actors, but I can tell you that this is gripping stuff, at times amusing in a way that makes you feel like you're in on an inside joke, and at other times very, very sad.
The humor often comes from the odd conversations in chambers, where Rumpole spends as little time as possible, in direct contrast to the other barristers who seem to think hanging out there is what it's all about. The usually good-natured Rumpole does suffer fools (it's that odd sort of British politeness, you see), however, and there are plenty of them about, beginning with Sir Guthrie Featherstone, a much inferior barrister who brown-nosed his way to a lofty title and the position of Head of Chambers. Featherstone (Peter Bowles) may be all pomp and primp when others are about, but when he's alone with Rumpole it's clear he's uneasily aware of the truth about his place in society and the law firm. Claude Erskine-Brown (Julian Curry) never tires of being the busy body, and he's none too delicate in his attempts to undermine others, including the only semi-flappable Rumpole. These people make it clear they would rather take on tax cases and give up criminal defense, but old Horace Rumpole wants no part of that. He spends his days down at The Bailey (the nickname for the criminal courts), defending the downtrodden, many of whom are guilty as hell.
This is where the series stands out far from the pack. Instead of taking the easy road and making Rumpole a saint, Mortimer drew up a character with nearly as many foibles as the people he defends. Trapped in a marriage for which he can generate little enthusiasm, he isn't above considering an affair with a young hippy girl he's defending on drug trafficking charges. He loves the way she and her friends live, and it causes him to re-think his own life path. Ready to chuck everything to join the commune, Rumpole is brought to earth with a thud by the one rule to which he knows he will always remain true: the barrister's code. When your client tells you she's guilty, you cannot continue defending her. This is only one of many examples of Rumpole's human weaknesses, and seeing a central character on a show like this being far from perfect is quite refreshing.
When Rumpole goes home at the end of the day... Well, he doesn't really want to go home at the end of the day, so he often hangs out at Pomeroy's Bar, smoking cigars and drinking cheap booze he relishes as if it were cognac, but when he DOES go home, it's to a wife he secretly refers to as "She Who Must Be Obeyed." Not the happiest marriage, that. She nags constantly and has the warmth of a popcicle, and she even calls her husband Rumpole (her own last name, mind you). You can't much blame him for that hippy girl, really. The one thing in his private life that really matters is Nick, their son, who likes to go to the old Bailey and watch Rumpole work whenever he has the chance. Nick, too, is browbeaten and manipulated by She Who Must Be Obeyed (also called Hilda... by someone, somewhere, I suppose), but Horace comes to his rescue in a manner that doesn't so much smooth things over as cut the discussion off immediately. It's not the most stressful home life one could lead, but it's not where Rumpole wants to be. His happiness is found in the Bailey, where he's glad to be "an old Bailey hack," digging into a case with enthusiastic vigor.
These two box sets (which are sold separately) contain the first four seasons of Rumpole of the Bailey, and they're highly recommended... with just one word of warning. For some reason, A&E has seen fit to edit the shows a bit. Again, this is my first exposure to the world of Rumpole, but a Google search on these sets brings up a lot of conversation between Rumpole fans who are upset by the edits. Apparently, the shows were originally done in halves, with an on-screen graphic reading "End of Part One," or words to that effect. Many people are saying A&E trimmed not just those words but, in some cases, the entire scenes around them, leaving gaping holes that are a bit jarring to those who are very familiar with the series. I can't guarantee this to be true, but a great number of people seem to be ticked off about it, so be advised it's a strong possibility. Otherwise, the picture and sound quality are quite good, and the rest is all down to the stories and acting, both of which are first rate. Each episode begins with author John Mortimer, who is in his 80s and looks a bit like a turtle in coke bottle glasses, talking about the episode you're about to watch. After three or four of these, I stopped watching his intros because instead of giving any real insight into the story or characters, Mortimer just tells you what's going to happen. Completely ruins the show, really. It's still oddly interesting hearing what he has to say, so I watch them after the episode, when it won't matter that he's going to tell me all five important plot twists.
The single greatest thing about Rumpole of the Bailey is Leo McKern, who brings to life the man with the name that sounds perfectly descriptive: Rumpole. He IS rumpled, and craggy, and everything else you can think of that describes a face like crumbling marble, atop which rests a hat so beat up it's the subject of jokes among judges. He spouts Wordsworth relentlessly, rolls every R until it sounds like a Buddy Rich snare roll, waffles and gurgles and waddles and drinks too much and says exactly what he thinks, consequences be damned. We really don't have a television character that compares on this side of the pond. Luckily, we can borrow theirs.
© 2005 - DJ Johnson