When Hitler Arrived at England's Door
You can call "Island at War" a soap opera, as some British television critics have, but if that's true this soap opera is a gripping, poetic one - about moral courage in many guises. You might also call it a drama of manners. (What does an Englishman say when a Nazi baron invites him and his wife over for brandy?)
"Island at War," a five-part mini-series that begins on Sunday night on PBS's "Masterpiece Theater," is about the occupation of the British Channel Islands during World War II. Although that is historical fact (Hitler referred to it as "wiping his boots on the doormat of England"), the screenwriter Stephen Mallatratt has chosen to set his story on a fictional Channel Island, St. Gregory.
As the first episode begins, viewers see the island's rolling green hills and valleys and what appears to be a tranquil life transformed overnight as the British military pulls out and German planes drop leaflets informing islanders of the terms of surrender. Not surprisingly, many residents decide to evacuate while they still can, and three families make three decisions, all of which will be altered.
This being a British production, the characters can be divided easily into social classes. The Dorrs belong to the upper class. James (James Wilby, of "Howards End," "Gosford Park" and "Maurice") is a local senator, and Felicity (Clare Holman) supervises the staff of their grand house, which they will soon be sharing with Baron von Rheingarten (Philip Glenister), the German commandant. As Felicity packs to leave for England, the Dorrs decide to end their marriage, but terribly civilly. ("I do wish you the very best of everything," says James.) Their son, Philip (Sam Heughan), is away at war.
The middle-class Mahys - Urban, Cassie and their lovely, marriageable daughters - seem relatively happy, which means something is bound to happen to mar that. Cassie (Saskia Reeves) is a bit of a grouch and is sick of Urban (Julian Wadham) being so relentlessly positive, even when their home is virtually emptied out by looters. "I suppose it's all rather dramatic, really, isn't it?" he says pleasantly about the coming occupation, later teasing his daughters about escaping disguised as a crate of tomatoes. Both daughters - June (Samantha Robinson), a cabaret singer, and Angelique (Joanne Froggatt), who works in Senator Dorr's office - will be accused of fraternizing with the Germans. In one case, the accusation will be true.
The Jonases, who live on a farm, decide to ship their small children to England. Kathleen (Julia Ford) refuses to leave her husband, Wilf (Owen Teale), who is a lobster fisherman and the local constable. But it is Wilf's elderly mother (Ann Rye), so naïve that she answers the Germans honestly without thinking about it, who brings them trouble.
From the beginning, "Island at War" presents a barrage of moral decisions and humiliations large and small. When forced to pose with German soldiers for a photograph, do you follow orders to smile? When forced to sell groceries to the Nazis, do you lie and keep the good Camembert and chocolate for your regular customers? Do you change the name of the Isaaks photo processing shop to something less Jewish? (After all, Mr. Isaaks suggested it himself before he left.) When you've given a young man bad advice that led to his execution, how much do you tell his grieving parents? And, just incidentally, how do you live with yourself?
To a slight degree, the story is told from the occupiers' point of view as well, but no one can say the Germans are painted as all good. One young airman (Laurence Fox), who would much rather be back in law school, does decide to drop his bombs only into the sea or onto open fields, to win the respect of the local young woman he loves. But Rheingarten, who develops tender feelings for Felicity, nevertheless tells her she can expect the aggressor in his men to come out eventually, because they are all "men without women" there. In another scene, he brags that if he ordered it, his soldiers would gladly shoot one another without a second thought.
Later in the series, one German officer tells someone that a certain young woman slept with him of her own free will, and he appears to believe that. But viewers have seen the encounter and know better. So do the directors, Thaddeus O'Sullivan and Peter Lydon, who film the young woman standing naked, mostly from the back, looking as vulnerable as any death-camp prisoner in the same situation.
As life on St. Gregory worsens, some locals keep their sense of humor. As the Dorrs hop onto their bicycles to go to a funeral (only the Germans are allowed motor vehicles now), James says, "At least we'll be fit." Felicity replies, "By which you mean sore."
Even the odd juxtaposition of courtesy and force offers moments of subtle black humor. On the day the Germans arrive, the elderly bailiff (Benjamin Whitrow) and James go out to the airport for the formal surrender.
Rhinegarten: "And you accept?"
Bailiff: "We have no choice, sir."
Rhinegarten: "Quite."
Strangely, however, the women of St. Gregory don't bother much with good manners when coerced into social gatherings with Germans. They're constantly telling the men what dreadful monsters they are, and no one even slaps them. The Nazis just look hurt.
I'd like to think that the screenwriter remembered the old days when women were a sort of protected class, socially if not economically. But Mr. Mallatratt, who died of leukemia in November, was born in 1947 and wrote from secondhand knowledge at best. He has a small role in the series as the local vicar.
In the end, "Island at War" is about prices paid. The point is that most people find ways to go on living, having paid them.
"Island at War," a five-part mini-series that begins on Sunday night on PBS's "Masterpiece Theater," is about the occupation of the British Channel Islands during World War II. Although that is historical fact (Hitler referred to it as "wiping his boots on the doormat of England"), the screenwriter Stephen Mallatratt has chosen to set his story on a fictional Channel Island, St. Gregory.
As the first episode begins, viewers see the island's rolling green hills and valleys and what appears to be a tranquil life transformed overnight as the British military pulls out and German planes drop leaflets informing islanders of the terms of surrender. Not surprisingly, many residents decide to evacuate while they still can, and three families make three decisions, all of which will be altered.
This being a British production, the characters can be divided easily into social classes. The Dorrs belong to the upper class. James (James Wilby, of "Howards End," "Gosford Park" and "Maurice") is a local senator, and Felicity (Clare Holman) supervises the staff of their grand house, which they will soon be sharing with Baron von Rheingarten (Philip Glenister), the German commandant. As Felicity packs to leave for England, the Dorrs decide to end their marriage, but terribly civilly. ("I do wish you the very best of everything," says James.) Their son, Philip (Sam Heughan), is away at war.
The middle-class Mahys - Urban, Cassie and their lovely, marriageable daughters - seem relatively happy, which means something is bound to happen to mar that. Cassie (Saskia Reeves) is a bit of a grouch and is sick of Urban (Julian Wadham) being so relentlessly positive, even when their home is virtually emptied out by looters. "I suppose it's all rather dramatic, really, isn't it?" he says pleasantly about the coming occupation, later teasing his daughters about escaping disguised as a crate of tomatoes. Both daughters - June (Samantha Robinson), a cabaret singer, and Angelique (Joanne Froggatt), who works in Senator Dorr's office - will be accused of fraternizing with the Germans. In one case, the accusation will be true.
The Jonases, who live on a farm, decide to ship their small children to England. Kathleen (Julia Ford) refuses to leave her husband, Wilf (Owen Teale), who is a lobster fisherman and the local constable. But it is Wilf's elderly mother (Ann Rye), so naïve that she answers the Germans honestly without thinking about it, who brings them trouble.
From the beginning, "Island at War" presents a barrage of moral decisions and humiliations large and small. When forced to pose with German soldiers for a photograph, do you follow orders to smile? When forced to sell groceries to the Nazis, do you lie and keep the good Camembert and chocolate for your regular customers? Do you change the name of the Isaaks photo processing shop to something less Jewish? (After all, Mr. Isaaks suggested it himself before he left.) When you've given a young man bad advice that led to his execution, how much do you tell his grieving parents? And, just incidentally, how do you live with yourself?
To a slight degree, the story is told from the occupiers' point of view as well, but no one can say the Germans are painted as all good. One young airman (Laurence Fox), who would much rather be back in law school, does decide to drop his bombs only into the sea or onto open fields, to win the respect of the local young woman he loves. But Rheingarten, who develops tender feelings for Felicity, nevertheless tells her she can expect the aggressor in his men to come out eventually, because they are all "men without women" there. In another scene, he brags that if he ordered it, his soldiers would gladly shoot one another without a second thought.
Later in the series, one German officer tells someone that a certain young woman slept with him of her own free will, and he appears to believe that. But viewers have seen the encounter and know better. So do the directors, Thaddeus O'Sullivan and Peter Lydon, who film the young woman standing naked, mostly from the back, looking as vulnerable as any death-camp prisoner in the same situation.
As life on St. Gregory worsens, some locals keep their sense of humor. As the Dorrs hop onto their bicycles to go to a funeral (only the Germans are allowed motor vehicles now), James says, "At least we'll be fit." Felicity replies, "By which you mean sore."
Even the odd juxtaposition of courtesy and force offers moments of subtle black humor. On the day the Germans arrive, the elderly bailiff (Benjamin Whitrow) and James go out to the airport for the formal surrender.
Rhinegarten: "And you accept?"
Bailiff: "We have no choice, sir."
Rhinegarten: "Quite."
Strangely, however, the women of St. Gregory don't bother much with good manners when coerced into social gatherings with Germans. They're constantly telling the men what dreadful monsters they are, and no one even slaps them. The Nazis just look hurt.
I'd like to think that the screenwriter remembered the old days when women were a sort of protected class, socially if not economically. But Mr. Mallatratt, who died of leukemia in November, was born in 1947 and wrote from secondhand knowledge at best. He has a small role in the series as the local vicar.
In the end, "Island at War" is about prices paid. The point is that most people find ways to go on living, having paid them.
Original article can be found here.
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