Catherine
the Great review – Mirren's labour of love lacks the magic touch
3 / 5
stars3 out of 5 stars.
The perfect
actor gives a magnificent performance ... and yet the show around her falls
flat
Lucy Mangan
@LucyMangan
Thu 3 Oct
2019 22.00 BSTLast modified on Fri 4 Oct 2019 15.10 BST
The great
handicap of HBO’s new four-part costume drama Catherine the Great (Sky
Atlantic) is that she’s not Henry VIII. Little common knowledge can be assumed
and an awful lot of time and effort has to be spent explaining quite where we
are and who has done what to whom to get us there. An opening caption sets the
scene, which you can choose to read in your A-Team or Star Wars voice:
“Catherine’s turbulent reign began in 1762 with a military coup. She seized
power from her husband Emperor Peter III who died soon after – in mysterious
circumstances. Surrounded by enemies and fighting off rival challenges to her
throne, Catherine’s rule is far from secure.” If you have a problem, if no one
else can help you, maybe you can hire … Count Orlov and Grigor Potemkin. No,
wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Catherine
the Great is played, magnificently, by Helen Mirren. If she were not, questions
would surely be asked in the House. Her formidable talent and long career has
made her into acting royalty herself and in recent years she has become a
specialist in monarchs proper, leaning into her innate regality to produce
award-winning turns as Elizabeths I and II. Even more pertinently for her
latest venture, she was also born Helen Mironoff, daughter of Vasily Petrovich
and granddaughter of Pyotr Vasilievich Mironov, a colonel in the Imperial
Russian army. It feels as much a labour of love as the glad seizing of a part
that would be catnip to any actor.
So this
series has the perfect actor and comes, in many ways, at the perfect time –
ripe for the story of a woman resented on all sides for refusing to shape
herself or her desires to the traditional feminine mould and becoming instead
the embodiment of the writer Florence King’s note: “When a woman steps out of
her place, she always steps up.” Not all of them arrange a coup d’etat removing
their husbands from power and having them assassinated (she maintained
plausible deniability over the latter), of course.
Her
now-lover Orlov and his brother are angling for a slice of power. The army
reckons it put the Empress on the throne and can knock her off it any time.
There are those who consider her regent only until her son Paul reaches his
majority and can take over. There are others who have met Paul and would rather
a large fur hat governed Russia than that 18-year-old milksop. And then there’s
Prisoner Number One, poor Ivan VI, a claimant to the throne confined in
Shlisselburg prison for all of his 24 years and sent mad in the process, but
who still acts as a rallying point for Catherine’s opponents.
Before long
we are all in a welter of intrigue, treachery and general skulduggery – and
once Potemkin heaves into view, you can add sexual rivalry too. It really is,
one hopes, so unlike the home life of our own dear queen.
In the
opening episode, the liberal-minded empress must lose some of her ideals and
find her cojones instead. Ivanites move against the empress, so her orders to
have him killed are carried out. The army’s Lieutenant Merovitch tries to stir
up trouble and finds himself decapitated, despite her insinuation of a pardon
on the scaffold. Only Potemkin offers her a safe space, and he is soon
defenestrated by the Orlovs for his pains. He survives, though only to have to
attend a fancy dress palace ball (which hardly seems fair on the man).
The parts
are all good – the scenery, the performances, the script – but they add up to
slightly less than their sum. Perhaps it is the extra exposition that makes it
feel too ponderous and prevents it from taking flight. Or perhaps it is the
fact that when it comes to creating anything, you can do all you can to
maximise your chances of success but the final ingredient is always elusive.
Call it magic, call it luck, but you need it to alchemise your efforts. If it’s
not there what you have is a sturdy workhorse, full of fine actors, good
moments and impeccable intentions, but not the elegant thoroughbred or racing
steed of your dreams.
• This
article was amended on 4 October 2019 because an earlier version referred to
Prisoner Number One as Ivan IV when Ivan VI was meant.
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