The Mirror Crack’d From Side To Side
Well, it’s been a month since the last film and I’m glad to have been unhurried and sporadic in my viewing of this series. This makes it feel more authentic to its original, which was only transmitted occasionally. It feels somehow appropriately symbolic (though why I don’t exactly know) that my sojourn in St Mary Mead has taken me from Christmas to Easter.
The Mirror Crack’d… comes a full eight years after
The Body In The Library. Watching at this pace, one can see that Joan Hickson has aged with the passage of time. But such is life, and it’s most appropriate for the chronology of the novels.
I’ve just read
this timeline of the novels according to their settings and the stories take place over four decades from 1930 (
The Murder At The Vicarage) to 1971 (
Nemesis). I think the series’ timeline is more compressed, with most episodes appearing to be post-war or early Fifties, but it’s still evident from comments made in certain instalments that time has passed and Jane herself is aware of the physical limitations placed upon her by age. In this respect, life reflects the original medium, while this new medium reflects both life
and the original medium. It creates rich layers.
What hasn’t aged at all is the tone of the series. There’s a consistency from beginning to end which makes these twelve stories feel perfectly cohesive and structured. It helps that there’s a timelessness to the backdrops of Hampshire villages and country estates. Not only did the series feel consistent back when it first aired, it has aged remarkably well thanks to a winning combination of good writing, perfect casting, careful production and ageless settings.
I understand Joan had wanted
A Caribbean Mystery to be her curtain call as Jane Marple. Thank God she was persuaded to film these final two stories which I’m sure remain as definitive as any others put on film. I’ve not watched more recent adaptions such as the ITV series, but this version certainly puts the 1980 Angela Lansbury film well and truly in its place.
As the final film in this series, it’s wonderful that this is probably the one which features the most returnees from previous instalments. Both of Jane’s nephews are present and correct, having appeared individually-but-separately in three previous stories between them. There are familiar villagers Miss Hartnell, the curate, Christopher Hawes and postmistress Mrs Brogan (a favourite of mine from her two previous appearances). Finally, Jane’s friend Dolly Bantry - last seen back in 1984’s
The Body In The Library - provides a perfect casting bookend.
In terms of other casting, familiar faces include Glynis “Makepeace” Barber gamely going for an American accent (did Michael Brandon coach her, I find myself wondering); there’s Hyacinth Bucket’s sister Daisy who is married to Charlie Cotton from
EastEnders (quite unrecognisable in this sympathetic role as the most gentle of men. I didn’t realise who he was until I looked it up this morning. Which also led me to the discovery that actor Christopher Hancock was the brother of Stephen, AKA Ernest Bishop). Margaret Courtenay is a familiar face from British TV (I suspect I remember her best from
Never The Twain which I watched not so long back).
Barry Newman looked very familiar, but nothing particular leaps out at me from his filmography other than a few
Murder, She Wrote episodes. I found him very charismatic indeed, which has reminded me that
Petrocelli is still somewhere on my viewing bucket list.
Hollywood invading this small English village could have felt disastrously forced, but it all worked fine due to the circles in which Jane and her friends operate.
All in all, it’s a fine end to the definitive Miss Marple, and it’s with some sadness that I take my leave from St Mary Mead.