When I first watched A Very English Scandal, I was only vaguely aware that the BBC was planning on producing a sequel, the aptly titled A Very British Scandal (I’ll be referring to them as ES and BS respectively from now on), but I knew nothing else otherwise. So, when I found out that the BS would be released in the days following Christmas in December 2021, I eagerly sought it out as quickly as I could, and now that I’ve watched both of them, I’d like to talk about them. To be clear, this isn’t a review. I’m not going to give these two numbered scores, but if you really want to know: 8/10 for the former and 7/10 for the latter. There’s certain aspects that I believe were done better in one than in the other, they each have their own flaws, yadda yadda. There’s reviews of them individually that go way more in-depth and are more eloquently written than anything I could ever type out, so I encourage you to seek those out if you’re curious. By all means, give both of them a try.
If you’re taking the time to read this whole thing for whatever reason, I’m going to assume you’ve already watched the two pieces of media in question. Nonetheless, allow me to provide a brief overview. ES was a 3-episode show that began airing on Amazon Prime Video in 2018, directed by Stephen Frears and written by Russel T. Davies, based on the book of the same name by John Preston. BS was also a 3-episode show that premiered on BBC One and Amazon Prime Video, this time in December 2021. It was directed by Anne Sewitsky and written by Sarah Phelps, based on… probably the need to capitalise off a popular existing property. Alright, sorry, that was a bit mean, but you can’t deny that it’s true. Apologies for already going on a slight tangent before I’ve even gotten to the juicy bits, but it’s still hilarious to me that the BBC produced a show as a sort of sister-sequel to another show that, by that point, had already existed for four years, and that they used the same naming convention for despite it not being related to the book the original was an adaptation of at all. But, hey, enough of that. Let’s be fair.
First things first: I am in no way going to even attempt to compare the general premises of these two shows; not only are they complete opposites in terms of basic plot, but also in terms of what themes or ideas are being conveyed. ES spotlights the drama surrounding former Liberal Party leader Jeremy Thorpe (Hugh Grant) and his alleged relationship with his ex-lover Norman Scott (Ben Whishaw) – an affair that caused a 15 year lead-up to the alleged attempted murder of Scott – as well as detailing homophobia in 60s-70s Britain. BS, on the other hand, focuses on the heavily publicised ‘Argyll v Argyll’ divorce case of Margaret Campbell (Claire Foy) and her husband Ian Campbell (Paul Bettany) – one rife with accusations of adultery, bribery, and forgery – and examines the misogynistic attitudes prevalent in the country at that time. Plainly, there is no “better” or “worse” premise here, and your preferences will likely determine which of the two you’ll be more interested in. That being said, I personally found the basic plot of BS to be far less immediately arresting than that of ES (maybe because I’ve watched one too many Divorce Court compilations on YouTube), but that’s where they shine in that regard: Whether you particularly care about any of the topics they cover or have any knowledge of British history and politics at all, the still find a way to get you invested.
Now, despite everything I just said about how different they are, they still share a very similar plot structure with only minor alterations across their three-episode runtimes. Usually, the first episode is entirely dedicated to setting up the initial conflict, the second ends with a dramatic revelation or reveal, and the third focuses on the resulting scandal proper, along with the ensuing court battles that inevitably follow. Normally, it would feel like a slap to the face to only converge on the actual scandal (you know, the thing in the title) during the final episode, but they make it work. Such tales of infamy did not occur in a day, and if the showrunners were to ignore the years and years of sparks that eventually ignited the fire in favour of simply indulging in second-hand public embarrassment, neither show would have been as acclaimed as it is. Given that we live in a world where most would rather revel in the drama itself than look any further into it, I can respect how ES and BS made the executive decision to set up the who, where, and why. It’s pretty impressive how much ground they were able to cover, taking into account that all their three episodes combined would clock in at only three hours or so.
Therein lies another aspect that I find quite interesting. When it comes to most historical dramas of this nature that I’ve watched, they fit into one of two boxes: Either they present the information in an objective fashion and remain neutral, or they are made with the explicit purpose of getting the audience to side with someone. ES has an intriguing way of going about this: While the non-fiction novel that it’s based on is very thorough and well-researched (from what bits of it I’ve read, anyway), calling it purely neutral wouldn’t be entirely correct. Although the central question of whether or not Thorpe did hire a hitman to kill an alleged ex-lover was historically struck down in the court of law, Preston’s account of the story is written as if everything that Norman states happened actually did happen, with it going in-depth on their secret relationship and Thorpe’s ‘plot’ to have Norman killed for exposing their “sordid” past and thus damaging his position as the Liberal Party’s very special boy forever. Needless to say, it would be difficult to finish the novel without believing Thorpe to be guilty on some level.
The show utilises the same format, but is unique in the way that it depicts the two sides of this story: Despite the narrative following Scott’s version of the tale, it does not explicitly endorse him or make him out to be the ‘perfect victim’. Simply put, these men are deeply flawed human beings: Thorpe is self-absorbed, arrogant, and manipulative, while Scott is selfish and whiny, with a penchant for exaggerating and sometimes outright lying for his own personal gain. They are very much morally ambiguous people, and the same can be said of Margaret and Ian, but I think BS doesn’t do the whole ambiguity thing as well as ES does. While Margaret is portrayed to have her own flaws, and I can definitely see why viewers could take either side with her – though I’ve definitely seen more people who lean on the side of sympathy, given how Ian treats her throughout the show – I’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who isn’t an absolute hardline misogynist that thinks Ian is the one true victim in this situation. Again, there’s nothing wrong with having a clearer emphasis on which side of a conflict is more sympathetic, but it’s a little disappointing BS couldn’t portray this clash of ideologies as well as its predecessor.
In general, however, the reason I personally find ES to be the more engaging watch has to do with the fact that I find its two ‘protagonists’ (if you can call them that) to ultimately be more interesting. Aside from their aforementioned contrasts in personality, you really could not make them any more different if you tried. Thorpe was born into a life of privilege and attended some of the top schools in the country, while Scott (purposefully?) estranged himself from his family and finished his school life at the age of 15. Thorpe became the leader of the Liberal Party before he even reached his mid-30s, while Scott was literally some guy who happened to be in the exact place at the exact time to meet him. You can understand why they’d be attracted to one another, but also why their relationship fell apart on the personal and societal level. I could go on, but you get the point: They have vastly opposing perspectives that both influence and inform the various actions they take throughout the course of the show, and it is these differences that make them fun to watch even when they aren’t together. Margaret and Ian, however, are more or less on the same calibre: They’re people of high nobility status from well-off families, being Duchess and Duke respectively, with plenty of money-flaunting and party-going included. Obviously,, it is a little more nuanced than that, with the clear gender inequality being a source of disparity for two of them, but I felt that there weren’t as many distinctions amongst its two leads that could’ve made it as engaging as what came before. In all honesty, I normally find it difficult anyway to feel for people so exorbitantly wealthy that they spend most of their time sipping champagne and frolicking around ancient castles à la Sofia Coppola’s film Marie Antoinette.
To back off my point, I believe that the main reason for this is because there simply isn’t enough time used to explore their individual perspectives. Yes, Thorpe is clearly the ‘main character’ of ES (hence, Grant being listed as ‘Lead Actor’ and Whishaw being listed as ‘Supporting Actor’ during awards shows), but there is still a lot of time devoted to Scott and his life outside of the moments he spent with his alleged lover. For every scene of Thorpe doing something, there’s usually a scene of Scott also doing something that follows – some great examples can be seen in the first and second episodes, where vignettes of Thorpe climbing the political ranks and generally being successful in his career are juxtaposed against Scott failing to keep down any job at all and getting either laughed at or ignored whenever he tries to expose his brief but torrid love affair with Thorpe. As I said earlier, because BS is directed in such a way that it focuses mainly on Margaret, there are rarely if ever any scenes showing what’s going on from Ian’s perspective, and when there are, they are brief. Maybe Paul Bettany was trapped in the Marvel Studios basement. Jokes aside, I’ve heard others say that Ian’s side of the story shouldn’t be granted any amount of attention due to how much douchebaggery he got up to, but this makes little sense given how ES never really shied away from depicting its leads doing less-than-savoury actions. We’re shown that Ian is a money-hungry gambling addict hooked on prescription pills, but rarely ever are we delivered scenes from his point of view that give any indication as to what he thinks of his predicaments.
Nonetheless, there are certain aspects that I feel BS handled better than its predecessor. For starters, it has an actual opening with cool visuals that I can at least sit through, rather than the white-text-on-black-background in ES that I constantly found myself having to awkwardly skip every time. Moreover, I find it to be superior visually; while not exceptional by any means, it has plenty of well-constructed shots and its cinematography is more aesthetically pleasing – that may have to do with the world of opulence that its characters live in, but still. That’s not to say the cinematography of ES is terrible in any way, it’s just bland and doesn’t really deviate from the most basic of shot compositions. The de facto main setting of BS, Inveraray Castle, is quite beautiful to look at, and I love how its atmosphere changes from a place of new beginnings to a place akin to a cage by the end of the story. I also liked the dynamic between Margaret and her stepmother, with the two constantly at odds with each other in that mother-daughter way that anyone who’s ever had a tense connection with their own maternal figure can relate to it. The issue of family is an aspect that I felt was woefully underutilised in ES, since Thorpe clearly seems to have had a close relationship with his mum in real life, which, to its credit, is shown, but it’s never further explored in the show proper. Lastly, although I complained earlier that its two leads lack the sort of engaging outward personalities as their predecessors, it is also true that, when they drop the British stiff upper lip and actually display their anger or frustration, it hits even harder.
However, I’ve got to say that perhaps the biggest and most noticeable contrast between these two shows, that isn’t the explicit switch of characters, plot, and time period, is definitely their tones. If you’ve never seen either of them and you’ve read this far already, I wouldn’t fault you for assuming that they’re both serious dramas. However, ES is unique in that way in that it is a dramedy, or, if you prefer, a tragicomedy. I was actually unaware of this when I first started watching, and I ended up being pleasantly surprised by how well these seemingly opposing genres worked in the context of such a dramatic narrative. While it does contain elements of British sarcasm and occasional dark humour, its main comedic component is farce: ES fully embraces the absurdity of the whole situation it portrays, wherein every politician is an idiot, every judge is irrational, and every would-be assassin is almost hilariously incompetent. Even its main characters have moments in which they are presented as foolish – take the scene where Thorpe over-enthusiastically questions by what percentage the Liberal Party’s popularity will increase if he gets married, or the scene in which Scott hurriedly changes his shirt before following a total stranger (read: would-be assassin) into a car simply because he finds the stranger to be good-looking. It is scenes like these that add to the show’s uniqueness, and that I felt were sorely missing in the sequel. Don’t get me wrong, there are certain moments of humour in BS, but aside from maybe a few witty lines per episode, the show is otherwise played completely straight as a conventional drama. I already mentioned Marie Antoinette, which, hey, is able humorously bank off of the lifestyle of the ultra-rich, so BS should’ve been able to do the same as well. I’m aware that the change in tone was most certainly due to a complete reworking of cast and crew (and thus, a complete reworking of priorities), but it is a little disappointing that they removed perhaps the most distinct feature that made the original stand out. Again, this doesn’t necessarily mean that BS is doing anything wrong, it’s just that, in the grand scheme of things, I don’t think it’ll be talked about or revisited as much as its predecessor.
I don’t want to end this already-too-long think piece with negativity, so now’s the time for me to gush about two aspects that I believe these two shows did equally well. First: Tension. Regardless of my personal beliefs on which narrative was more engaging, the fact remains that the tension hinges on one thing: A big secret that will eventually blow up in the faces of everyone involved because it is unable to be hidden any longer. This is why, as I stated earlier, I am glad the writers tackle the whole story rather than just the bits where the general public gets involved. Seeing the characters slowly begin to unravel as their constructed lies fall apart is nothing short of entertaining and suspenseful, which brings me to my final point: The acting. As you probably already know, the casting and performances in both shows are top-notch, especially when it comes to their leading roles. Ben Whishaw certainly has the most well-known performance of them all, given that he famously won pretty much every television award under the sun (including a Golden Globe, an Emmy, and a BAFTA), and I will say that his portrayal of Norman Scott definitely captures Scott’s complex nature, if nothing else. Although he sadly did not receive any awards, Hugh Grant as Jeremy Thorpe will likely be remembered as one of the highlights of his whole career, as he seamlessly illustrates both Thorpe’s witty and jovial political persona and his more troubled inner world in one of his most subtle displays of acting prowess to date. If audiences weren’t already falling back in love with him in Paddington 2, then they were absolutely ready to with ES. Claire Foy, already familiar with playing a member of the British elite from her highly-praised role as the young Queen Elizabeth II in The Crown, no doubt brought her expertise to BS, and she nails Margaret’s character and mannerisms. Even though he doesn’t feature as much, Paul Bettany as the disgraced Duke is quite the chilling – and occasionally vicious – performance.
That’s all I have to say for now, and if there’s something I haven’t mentioned, that’s probably because it’s already been said elsewhere. As always, feel free to express your own thoughts, and I’ll be more than happy to take a look at them.
The Art Archive 