Although Le Fanu was best known for his ghost stories, Uncle Silas hasn’t a single element of the supernatural or the uncanny. Instead, Le Fanu weaves a tale of greed, corruption, illusion, and tremendous evil preying on the innocent. The book tells the tale of an adolescent girl named Maud, an heiress living with her reclusive father, in their formidable mansion. After her father's sudden death, she becomes the ward of her uncle Silas, a once infamous gambler, and who now claims to be a devout Christian, living a quiet, secluded life in his mansion, Bartram-Haugh. But soon after moving in with him, Maud begins to sense that something is amiss, with her uncle Silas behaving strangely, even sinisterly, while Bartram-Haugh, with its history of murder, seems to be haunted by an air of menace and evil.
The novel has been adapted to the big and small screens many a time, but one of the most effective, and provocative versions, is The Dark Angel, a mini-series which aired on the BBC in the winter of 1989.
This version is almost forgotten now, but upon release, it was quite a sensation, and later, when it came out on VHS, it turned into a cult classic. And for good reason.
The Dark Angel, takes Le Fanu’s slow-burn novel, and turns it into a hallucinatory, intense Gothic thriller, or as the promotional material calls the series, "the archetypal Gothic thriller."
Veteran TV director Peter Hammond, and writer Don MacPherson, attack the material with manic energy, leaving no opportunity to explore the darkest and seediest aspects of the original novel, sometimes stylishly, sometimes with what borders on bad taste. But throughout the three episodes that make up the series, there is never a dull moment, or an uncaptivating scene.
Maud is played with earnest innocence by Beatie Edney, and like all the other characters from the novel, is more or less an exaggerated version of the original character.
Peter O’Toole, as Uncle Silas, delivers one of his typically uneven performances from the 1980s, oscillating between brooding charisma, and annoying hamminess. But in his quieter moments, O’Toole is a scary, unforgettable Silas, a vicious, calculating scoundrel, masquerading as a tortured Byronic figure.
But the real star of this adaptation is Jane Lapotaire as Madame de la Rougierre, Silas’s emissary and dark accomplice. Lapotaire delivers a performance so sinister, so mesmerizing, that it has to be seen to be believed. A performance that is kinetic, exaggerated, and grotesque, yet never unbelievable or risible. It is a near magnificent acting feat, and showcases the breadth of talent of Lapotaire, one of the most underrated actors to come out of Britain. Lapotaire takes a character that was merely intriguing in the novel, and transforms her into a force of cruel nature, a sadistic villain who nonetheless manages to be entrancing and even sympathetic.
And although director Peter Hammond’s excesses, and the series’ overwrought tone threaten to overwhelm the viewer at any moment, by the end of the three hour tale, one is left with a sense of a dark journey worth taking, through a haunted, grotesque, and occasionally beautiful nightmare.
Text © Ahmed Khalifa.
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